Another Door Closes

The '60 Chevy went to her new home yesterday. She left in style, a queen on her chariot. So many complicated emotions. Gratitude and guilt, relief and regret, solace and sorrow.

So much of what I'm feeling makes no sense, but that doesn't stop the feelings. I feel terrible for selling Cecil's car, but he knew I would, and he was fine with that knowledge. Cecil always said that cars were made to be driven, and I know he hated it that the Chevy had sat idle for so long.

I hate that I will no longer be part of the collector car hobby, even though so very few of the people I met in the hobby ever made me feel welcome, and only big impersonal events like cruise nights and Cruisin' the Coast were really fun for me.

I love to look at the cars, but riding in them always scared me, I know how not crash worthy they really are. As for driving them? Oh, but no. Simply too scary.

But with the gratitude that the car is sold before anything else can go wrong with it is guilt that I sold Cecil's car.

With the relief that I no longer have responsibility for an asset I don't have the skills to own is the regret that the car club people never accepted me as one of them.

With the solace that the car went to a good home is the sorrow for all the good times I had with Cecil in that car that I will never have again.

This grief journey never gets uncomplicated.

I hope she has a good run with her new owner. I hope the car gets to make good memories for new people.

I have to remind myself that no matter where the car lives, the memories are mine to keep. And cars are meant to be driven, and now she will get another chance to own the roads.