Tales of the (yet to be named) Car

The car is struggling. He (for this car is very surely a “he”) is groaning and growling and having trouble getting out of bed. Each time we ask him to reverse, he baulks and then snaps at us, refusing to engage, then smoothes the sheets, rolls over and puts the pillow over his head. In fact, just before we left Bend, I had to get out and push him from his slumber, hands on hood and feet on curb, coaxing him out of his spot. He lazily rolled backward, and, having cleared all obstacles, Tim talked him into trying first gear, slowly warming him to the idea of second, before demanding third. After that, he, the car, has been going through the motions, but whining at every transition.

We are scared for him and of him.

I suspect that, once we deposit him in a garage in Seattle, where he will receive quick tune up while we are away, he will just collapse. That he will just slump sleepily, trying to keep his eyes open as we wander away, backpacks full to the brim with cold weather clothes for Alaska and hardly any clothes for Hawaii, and that he will try to cry out, to make us wait for him, because how could we ever be so cruel as to leave him, when it is he who, quite literally, got us where we are(?!?!)? But, alas, he will succumb to exhaustion before we exit the garage and begin his weeklong slumber.

The way back will be slow, buddy, I promise you that, full of downtime and, perhaps, multiple days free of driving. But, thank you – really, thank you. You have been our home, our office, our quite space, and our sanity. Because without you, we, quite literally, would not have made it this far.