So I’m selling my car and I feel incredibly emotional.

 

I’ve written before about parting ways with my noble steed, but this time it’s serious. It’s for real. It’s permanent.

 

I’ve had this car for my entire adult life, and it’s been like a comfort blanket of sorts – albeit a fuel guzzling one with a huge turning circle. It was my hail damaged quantum of solace; ferrying me from one disappointment to the next. It has been a comforting constant in my life over the years; it was with me long before I realised my side fringe was out-dated.

 

But I find myself behind the wheel of another vehicle (one of the too many cars my parents had, to be precise). I find myself admitting my former charger can’t sit in my parent’s spare paddock forever. I find myself moving on.

 

I know the time is right to pass it on to new owners, but I need to do it the right way. I need the poetic conclusion I crave but also avoid like the plague.

 

I know I need to pour some petrol on my past, light a match and toss it behind me as I strut towards the future (in vinyl hotpants, with unexplained toned legs of course). I yearn to hurtle towards the great unknown in a cloud of glitter. But no matter how fabulous an ending may be, it is still an ending. And that’s a little sad.

 

I’m about to move on to another phase in my life and I find myself aching for the meaningful moments of clarity American teenage movies taught me I needed. I want to take a last long look at the sun setting over the mountain in front of my parents’ home. I want to watch as the bonfire flames lick a handwritten letter. I want a single tear to be wiped away by a knowing hand.

 

Instead I’ve booked a pap smear, cancelled my phone bill mail out and am flogging unnecessary items on Gumtree.

 

Because the truth is that life doesn’t present proufound moments of importance. As much as I hate to admit it, my life isn’t a Hollywood epic, or even low-budget made-for-television movie.

 

There won’t be a banjo solo when my heart needs it most. The eagle flying into the sunrise will have nothing to do with my soul being set free and everything to do with a rotting sheep carcass over the hill. The rain won’t ever pour because I’m in the complication-cum-dramatic-realisation stage of a relationship.

 

So I have to invent my own meaning.

 

And I think I’ve done that with my Gumtree ad. It has been a particularly poignant Monday morning:

 

“The greatest advertisement for Toyota ever” – George, my mechanic.

 

This Camry may have entered its second decade of existence this year, but unlike other 20-year-olds, this wide-boned lady hasn’t had a breakdown of any kind – emotional or mechanical. This bastard just keeps on going.

I’ve had this car for about eight years now and the most I’ve ever had to do it was tape the bumper bar back on (don’t worry, it’s been professionally fixed now). The most my mechanic has had to do to it was replace the timing belt.

With 350,000 ks on the clock this old bird has seen some things, and I can’t say the only journeys we’ve been on together were purely distance-based. It’s been a spiritual ride and while the road wasn’t always a smooth surface I always made it home. Now we’ve reached a fork in the road and it’s time to go our separate ways.

But this Camry is far from reaching its final destination.

Sure, there are some dents, a bit of hail damage and that bumper bar doesn’t match the rest of car but it still does what it needs to do – get you from A to B. IT was previously registered in NSW so it was roadworthy about six months ago. The tyres are newish, with one being particularly fresh because I always seemed to run over a damned echidna with the same wheel.

The air con is an icy blast so powerful it could rival the cold bone chilling stare of Julie Bishop. The boot has enough room for a cumbersome swag, an esky and all your emotional baggage. The driver’s side sun visor has a mirror for you to check your teeth in.

Basically this car has everything a modern person could want (except electric windows or Bluetooth). And it needs a good home. Open up your heart and you garage door to this chariot, and you shan’t be disappointed.

 

Hopefully the car new owner exists and drives it away as the sun sets.