My trusty steed finally gave out. That is, at 266K and with an antifreeze problem, I stopped wanting to spend money on it. I guess you can say I gave out.
Now a teenager gets to drive it. I wish her the best. And yes, I totally cried when she drove away with it.
I know, it's just a car. I've got pictures and memories. It's cool.
And, uh, this is my new car.
Heh heh. Yep. Pretty much a clone. Except it's an automatic. The great Anne O'C commented that it was an end of an era. I couldn't put it more succinctly. The old Accord was loose and manual and I could maneuver it better than I can my own body (for reference: see me in Zumba). And because it was so old I had no issue tearing around without much concern for wear and tear.
This has all changed. I feel like a grandma, now, fearfully accelerating at stop lights, spacing out as I amble along, as it sounds too obnoxious to peel out of a stop and because automatic gives me little to do. Very non-kinetic.
But whatever. I'm not complaining. It's a choice ride, and once I get my iPhone hookup I can break into true obnoxiousness with the most random playlists ever.
And this was drawn on the back by one of the kids of the previous owner. So there's that.
It's just a car. They're just cars. I know.