In For the Long Haul

In 1984 I met this really cute guy at the laundromat.  I should have seen a red flag when I noticed the fraying green underwear he was folding, but I was drawn to those baby blues, staring with such confidence into my flirty browns.  
I also missed the next flag, when he drove me home from our first date at The Bullring (after my purse was stolen), in an rusting Ford Capri.  
After graduating from university, my now husband picked up a grey Hyundai Pony we named “Silver”.   A couple of years after our son was born, we purchased our First Brand New Vehicle...a 1989 Honda Accord.  We kept the Pony as a second vehicle and drove it practically into the ground...I'm pretty sure there were holes in the floorboards while my spouse was still driving it.  Still, it sat motionless in our driveway for quite a while, along with the spiffy red truck he purchased from a buddy.  I don’t remember how I convinced my hubby to eventually put Silver out to pasture, but I know it took a while.

We drove the Accord all over Ontario, across Canada to our new home in BC and traversed Okanagan mountain ranges on many occasions, visiting our relatives on Vancouver Island.  In 2007, with 303,000 km on it, it was time to retire the Accord and we purchased a Toyota Camry.   My husband was reluctant to part with the Honda and to my horror he suggested one of the kids take it over.  I put my foot down.  

Today, the lads from Pick-n-Pull will arrive soon to divest us of this eyesore (my word not his) that has been parked at the side of the house for almost 5 years now. 

I’m not sure why my husband has such a hard time giving up his vehicles, but I’ve just realized this does bode well for me.  Over the past 27 plus years we’ve clocked a lot of miles, my hubby and I.  I certainly don’t run as well as I used to, my joints feel rusted and I’ve got more than a few dents and scrapes, as well as chronic conditions that require a lot more work than a little bondo and duct tape could fix....and let’s just skip the discussion on emissions.  Yet so far my guy has given no sign of wanting to send me to the scrapyard.  

I’d have to say what I thought were warning signs when I started this post, were  in fact evidence of my husband's admirable character - of his loyalty, of his patience and strength of commitment.  Maybe holding on to something that’s seen better days isn’t such a bad thing after all.


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