Monday, October 27, 2008

Mercury Sable 1995-2008 R.I.P.

Three weeks ago as I was driving down Chapman Highway in Knoxville, smoke began billowing out the hood of my '95 Mercury Sable. As I drove, my efforts to accelerate by stomping on the gas pedal were met with a small voice coming from Sable. 
Sable looked up at me as we slowly lost speed, 
"Taylor, I have always loved you. Thanks for the...the...the good times." 
"Sable, why are talking like that? Stop it! Don't you die on me. YOU BETTER NOT DIE ON ME!" 
"Taylor, you have to let me go."
"What am I going to do without you."
"You'll find a way a way, Taylor. You'll find a way."
"Sable, I'm so scared... Sable? SABLE!!!!" 

And there we sat in the parking lot that I steered her into at the last minute. I held her in my arms sobbing as I shouted to the heavens, "WHYYY?"

I first met Sable in 2003 during my sophomore year. She was a gift to me from my grandfather who passed away that year and said I could have the car. I drove her back to Knoxville from Virginia, and we hit it off immediately. Sable and I went through a lot together through the next five years. 

She was once operated by three of us at once. Tyler steered. Clint worked the windshield wipers, and I pressed the gas. That's how many guys it takes to keep us alive when the driver decides it would save time to pee in a bottle as opposed to pulling over. 
She giggled as I kissed dates goodnight. 
She blushed when I told the cop I didn't know how fast I was going. 
She pressed forward from Atlanta to Knoxville when Charlie and I talked about whether or not I should return to Johnson or go to ACC. 
She was respectfully silent when I would pray to God on late night drives. 
She accepted my apologies when I broke off door handles and chunks of upholstery from loading and unloading guitars, amps, and drums. 
She sang along when I wrote some of my songs by pounding on her steering wheel and singing loudly.
She was good. She was real good. 

Well time passes and I finally reached a point where I felt like I could start seeing other cars again. I looked over a few sitting in various car lots. Eventually, it worked out that some friends of mine from Virginia found me a car at retail price: A 2003 Cavalier with 5,700 miles on it. Nothing too flashy. Just my type. 

I picked her up today, and as we drove down the highway in awkward silence she finally cleared her throat and said, 
"Sooo... my name is Cavalier." 
"Hey, Cavalier. I'm Taylor." 
"You wanna listen to some tunes?"
"How's the White Stripes?"
"Perfect."

I think I'm in love. 

5 comments:

Betsy said...

awe, love at first sight! congrats, can't wait to meet her!

jason said...

i'm not sure how to react or respond to that story....laughing, crying, reminiscing, and peeing into the Coke can currently sitting on my desk all come to mind.

Going Weston said...

aw, that's funny.

remember when my beemer died. You Babs and I were on our way to see Nacho Libre at the $2 and I was eating taco bell...if you guys weren't there, I would have weeped and weeped until the next morning...THEN called AAA. So sad!

it makes me want to do a car memory post. but I'm kind of tired, maybe some other time.

betsy said...

dear going weston,
that was tim, not taylor.

the end.

betsy

Taylor said...

yeaah, I was trying SO hard to remember that.

cough