Fear Of Whales

Tales of a reluctant minister

My Car

with one comment

(This was written on tuesday and published late in order to ensure that none of my closest friends would feel undervalued for having to hear about this on my blog first.)

I had no idea, not the vaguest hint, yesterday morning as I woke up, I would be saying goodbye to my 1995 Toyota 4Runner

I had been worried about a sore throat that I felt was coming on, which would interfere with my ability to engage at the meeting I was headed to in Lawrence.

But while I was still outside of Topeka I got stuck in the snow, and when i called the tow truck they recommended bringing it to the mechanic. Even when he said those fateful words “I think ya burned our yer tranny” I figured we were talkinng about an $800-$1000 repair.

It’s a $4,800 repair. on a car worth $2,900. and I have $600 to my name. (minus school dept)

The transmission was the only thing left. I’d had the engine rebuilt, replaced the radiator, kept up with brakes and electronics (that’s just regular maintenance) I just has a CB Radio Installed… I’d been planning to keep it forever, just as long as the transmission held out. But it’s toast.

The care is gone. I’m going through he steps to negotiate selling it for scrap metal. I’m saying goodbye.

The word for this emotion is heartbreak. I can tell because it feels the same as when my past girlfriends have dumped me (maybe worse) my face feels chapped, like it’s been sunburned, my eyes are full of tears.

I feel like it was a member of the family. It was my constant companion since high school, When friends turned their backs on me, excommunicated me, judged me, and abandoned me, my 4Runner was dependable. It was my shelter, my tectum et tempestas the only constant in my often transitional life.

I’d slept in that car when times were hard. It had become my home in a literal sense for several periods during my ownership, and in a very real and figurative sense for the rest of the time. When tensions were high and emotions flared, I always knew I had my car, and I could always drive away.

It was Serenity

It is dead.

She had a full life, We’d traveled all over together. I won’t lament for having neglected to to do ____ while I had it. We’ve done donuts, taken road trips, helped people move, gone off road, and hauled a truckload of candy home for Halloween. She came Urban Camping In San Diego, Helping Homeless folks at Midnight in Downtown LA, taking a girl on a first date to Dateland, ald all the way with me to Kansas.

Now I’m starting to ask the hard question of what it means to live without her, and trying not to ask the easy questions like “why, God why?” I’ll probably be without a car for a while. Maybe I’ll get a Motorcycle when I can afford one, maybe someday I’ll get another 4Runner. For now My call is simple:

John Ch 5:8: Jesus Said to him “Get up, take up your pallet and walk”


Written by RyanGaffney

January 28, 2011 at 12:05 am

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. My deepest condolences. You must feel as though you’ve lost your dearest friend. My prayers are with you during this difficult time. Though no other car could possibly replace this one, I hope someday you find yourself in the seat of another. In the meantime, may the god of all things automotive comfort you and give you peace.

    And your link works on a PC.


    January 29, 2011 at 7:39 pm

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