This is going to be a really long and sappy post about a car, so...fair warning. I never would’ve guessed that I’d get so attached to an inanimate object. Especially this car. 9 years feels like no time at all now. This car outlasted 3 VWs, a Mustang, 2 trucks, and 2 motorcycles. Hell, I had this thing longer than my 3 last relationships. It’s seen me move to 3 different states and took me from Tennessee to California, twice. In just 2 months in 2015, I racked up 10,000 miles on it driving to the last SoWo, Bimmerfest, Wuste, and Leavenworth. In all of those years and miles, it only ever left me completely stranded 1 time. I always knew that it’d make it back to wherever we called home. When I was in the lowest part of my life, it was there, waiting for the chance at another road trip. Another excuse to cruise with the windows down and the Wu Tang Clan blaring out of the speakers. The memories I made, the things I learned, and most importantly the people I met and befriended both because of and in spite of this loud, low, leaky, dented bucket of bolts will live with me for forever. The emotions I felt as it was hauled away from me were overwhelming and I will admit with zero shame that I sobbed when I couldn’t see it anymore. Thanks for everything, Ol Dirty Bastard. I loved you.

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