When an old horse is faithful, it’s so hard to say good-bye.
I won’t be pointing my gun at the “horse,” turning my head away, and then shooting it before that last trip to the glue factory, but I have decided it’s time to unearth my old mount, a 1989 Caprice sedan, from a friend’s back 40 and sell it to the scrapper or to a demo driver.
Yes, I could leave the car where it is and wait for it to wither away, but a winter beater such as this deserves a mightier end. Its’ reliably and safely taken me 120,000 miles in five years and only asked for gas and the occasional muffler and brake job deserves. It’s hit four deer without needing body work to remain functional. It’s slid around ice in what I call “Caprice-capades” during my semi-monthly 500-mile round trip from Iola to Minnesota without crashing. And that is its history known to me, after the odometer had turned to 100,000 (or 200,000).
Such an end should come with fire and fury, with dignity and dare. And that’s why I am trying to decide how to give the car a fitting death. Driving it to the salvage yard seems so anti-climactic, and if it winds up in a demo derby, I fear I’d attend and regret my decision. So, I’ll put the vote to you!