Not On My Terms...

Early Wednesday afternoon I discovered I had been the victim of a very unlucky break, and my first inclination was to not write about it here. I wanted this blog to be a positive thing, and, once I start, it’s not terribly difficult to slide into the dark areas of doubts and fears and sadness that sometimes make my existence a struggle.

After thinking about it, though, I decided that I should include some negatives along with the positives or this would become a fairy tale rather than a document that honestly describes this stage of my life. In the grand scheme of things, it could be much worse, but it’s just not what I needed right now.

I walked out to my SUV, intending to go grocery shopping, and saw this:





As it turns out, a flatbed tow truck at the top of the hill had slipped out of gear while it was parked, rolled down the hill unoccupied, and crashed into my SUV sending it sideways over the curb against which it was parked. This happened Tuesday night, but the police were unable to locate me – my hovel is about 150 yards away, and who knows what old phone number is in the vehicle registration computer in Florida. It’s just another one of those things that we all should update but never do.

The accident apparently caused a major disturbance when it happened. Police blocked off the road and went door to door looking for the owner of the truck – which they found, and the owner of the SUV (me), which they did not. I was actually having dinner with my niece and her friend in Bethesda. When I ride the Metro, the route I take back to my hovel does not pass the place where my SUV was parked. So I knew nothing until I decided to get groceries early Wednesday afternoon, and found my SUV as you see it in the pictures, with a written description of the accident and the truck owner's name and insurance information left by the investigating officer in a sealed evidence bag tucked under my windshield wipers.

After two days of phone calls to and from my insurance company, it appears they have decided the SUV is a total loss. I have to say I was unhappy when I heard the news, but not in the way I expected.

While I tried to comprehend the idea that my SUV was destroyed, I realized that I have had it since December of 2000. I thought about how much my life had changed since then, how difficult it has sometimes been, and, as silly as it may seem, the one constant thing in that entire time has been my SUV. It has taken its share of knocks and dings, but it has been practical and reliable.

For the first few years it served as a very functional transport vehicle while Tracy’s Acura was the choice for comfort on restaurant outings and road trips. It was convenient to have my old dog Bo hop in the back and take him places. Whenever he heard the words “go for a ride” he would immediately yelp for joy and twirl around in excited circles until I opened the tailgate.

Tracy was terribly sick for a long time until a kidney transplant gave her new life. Bo died after several months of debilitating illness that was heartbreaking to watch. Then I nearly lost my right eye when a good jab from a branch of an azalea bush led to a vicious fungal infection. Somewhere along the way, Tracy and I separated and then divorced. So I moved into an apartment with a truckload of my belongings.

And I parked my SUV just outside.

During the summer of 2005 I drove all over North Florida in it, seeking every trail that could be hiked. My mind was not well so I set out to improve my body by walking, sometimes for many miles, in the pine and palmetto forests. By the summer of 2006 I had switched to biking, and my SUV proved to be the perfect carrier to move me and my bike to the entrance of the Hawthorne Trail over and over. After months of training, I successfully completed the Santa Fe Century (100 miles of riding in one day) in October of 2006. My SUV brought me and my biking gear to the starting line. When 2007 came, I had met Kami by then, and she and I – with her dog Denali – got in the habit of going to St. Augustine Beach almost weekly, a pattern we continued into 2008. Even now, when I lift the back seats, I find substantial lingering deposits of beach sand and dog hair.

And, of course, when I departed on this New Clothing Enterprise, I loaded all I could in to – and on to – my SUV. Nourished by fresh oil and steering with new front tires, it carried me up hundreds of miles of mountain roads and brought me here, to the place where I hoped to create a life more worth living.

I had decided some time ago that I would keep it until it fell apart. Who the hell wants car payments? Occasional repairs were to be expected, but I hadn’t experienced the catastrophic one that would cause me to throw in the title. The transmission seemed sound. The engine burned a bit of oil, but started quickly every time I turned the key. It was a welcome, familiar sight when I returned to every random parking lot in which I left it. For eight and a half years.

I think what disturbs me most is, once again, I don’t get to end things on my terms. I wanted to have my SUV reach the stage where I was happy to see it go. I wanted to curse it when a belt broke or a starter stopped. I wanted to kick it when the fuel pump quit suddenly on the side of a lonely road. I wanted to have time to enjoy the memories that I associate with it, the good ones.

In the long run, it might all be for the best. The loss of this last link to days gone by may signal the end of an unsettled chapter in my life. I just wish I could have been the one to write the ending. But, the chapter is written. The story moves on.