A tribute to “The Merc”

I interrupt my normal word-and-word title format to bring you a very important post:

A tribute to “The Merc”

You are a maroon 1999 Mercury Sable. You probably never expected to transport 17-year-old kids around from Point A to Point B. I’m sure you were much more comfortable being the sole source of transportation from home to grocery store and church. Nevertheless, you made a stellar career out of toting Casey and me around. After all, yours was the first door Casey opened for me. We had many awkward conversations regarding our so-called “feelings” for each other in your soft gray front seats. When it was time for Casey to go to college, you took him there with great care and even brought him back to Houston to visit me on weekends. That was kind of you. Then, when I went to college, you and Casey were my only way to get places. Besides Route 36, of course. A year later, when I brought my much-shinier-than-you Honda Accord up to school, you got to take a break. No offense, but my car was a little┬álot cooler. You still managed to get Casey to swim practice at 5 a.m., which I’m sure the Honda could have done just fine, but we let you take on that daunting task.

To be honest, I expected to have replaced you before now. But I’m grateful for the extra time we got to spend together. You and I have been a lot of places together. We rarely got to those places going faster than 60 mph, but still, we got there safe and sound. I’ll find a place in my heart to miss the scratches on your rear end that are now covered up with maroon nail polish. I’ll miss the pennies that have been in your center console since I first sat in that passenger seat. I’ll miss the way the knob for the air conditioner sometimes just fell off for no particular reason at all. I will not miss the way you took forever to unlock when it was cold outside. In fact, I’ll appreciate that our new car probably has a button on the key we just push to unlock the doors.

And though Casey occasionally had other modes of transportation:

None of them worked on land. So thanks for getting him places. You’ve had so many roles: old lady’s car, kid’s first car, boyfriend’s car, brother’s car, off-campus lunch car, Citizens Patrol car, designated driver car, etc. We love you Merc. And we wish you the best wherever you’re going. Which is hopefully not a junkyard, because that would make me sort of sad to think about.

Though our new car might be a little shinier and will probably tote around our future children, you were the one that was there for us in the beginning, when we weren’t really sure where we were headed. And oh the places we went. Thanks, Merc.

 

Comments

  1. This is hands-down my favorite post ever! I love the way you memorialized The Merc. In the words of a little girl who once had to bury her “flimsy” guinea pig, The Merc was a “faithful companion”. I always loved watching it pull into the driveway because I knew it carried some pretty special folks inside. It served Casey well, and I, too, am a little sad to see it go. It’s the end of The Merc era, but the beginning of a new one for you and Casey. I can’t wait to see who the new car will tote around over the years. Long live The Merc!

  2. Back in college, I vividly remember Casey saying that he would be purchasing a Prius. I’m dying to know what shade of maroon y’all end up with. And you left out the part where Casey was having to stomp really, really hard on the brakes to get the Merc to slow down; luckily Papa Strange knew she just needed a little brake fluid and a tummy rub. She took good care of everyone. Oh the Merc! You will be missed, indeed.

    • Haha, why didn’t I think to consult you before writing? You are so right! The Prius didn’t even make the top 4 cut. But, after a year of reading Consumer Reports cover-to-cover, I think we can feel okay about our final decision.

Trackbacks

  1. [...] biggest purchase this year was Casey’s new car. We finally said goodbye to the Merc. We also bought a new vacuum cleaner. Very exciting. It’s funny, when you’re thinking [...]

  2. […] took a total of nine test drives and months of reading the same edition of Consumer Reports before he bought the new car. So, I had told myself there was a 90% chance we wouldn’t get a dog and a 10% chance […]

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