Goodbye, old paint
Scott sold our old 1989 Toyota Camry today. It was technically his, I guess, bought before we shared such things officially. I think of it as our car because it was the one car we had between us for most of our first ten years together, and because we have quite a few memories in that car.
It saw us through college. We didn't drive it much then, since we rode bikes so much, so we got it a car cover to keep the dust off in between longer trips. It was a bit old even then, by car standards. A neighbor in the apartment parking lot watched with interest one day as we unveiled it to go somewhere. He thought that if we bothered to cover it so carefully, it must have been something special. No doubt he found the truth anticlimactic.
Scott taught me to drive in that car. It wasn't the first car I drove, but it was certainly the first car I drove regularly or with any skill. We also (and this gets personal, here!) messed around in that car, before we outgrew such things and found better hiding places.
The car still runs pretty well, without ever having had any major repairs, but it had started to develop little problems. It leaks oil if the oil in it is too thin. It leaks electricity, too, so the battery discharges if it goes too long without running. A year or so ago, I got my own car, and Scott got a new car earlier this summer, so the old one sat in our driveway for awhile, waiting for us to get around to posting an ad somewhere.
Yesterday, someone noted that we hadn't put the new registration sticker on it and knocked on the door asking to buy it. I gather he has little income and a new baby, and just needs something, right away, to drive around town. His offer was a little low, even for such an old car, but it gets it out of our driveway with no particular effort, and it goes to a home that needs it. He will be its fourth owner, and I hope it serves him as well as it has served us.