You have treated me well.
Through road trips and drive-in movies and a million tanks of gas.
Until the day that you died, you started without hesitation.
Your teletubby, purplely-blue set you apart from the other cross-over vehicles on the road.
Oh, how I will miss you!
The foul scent of the mysterious, invisible, dead, decaying mouse carcass.
The way your clock was nothing more than a blank screen with blank buttons.
Your broken cup holders and stock issue cassette player.
Where will I ever find a car like you, who in all 225,000 miles of its glory, still look liked a champion, all valor, not a day past 25 even though you were only 9. I will miss your spacious trunk space and the way that the drivers side seat knew my butt perfectly.
Another car may replace you but it can never take your place in my heart. Goodbye my Soob, my Lezie, my friend- goodbye!
RIP The Les Mobile 2001-1/22/09
4 comments:
was it the water pump?
Timing belt...
Pre cursor to the Ode to the Saabotager.
Less then a year since we have met.
Your sweet purr still echos the walls of my mind with ticking and clicking.
As I turned you on that final time, you chugged and chugged not just once but twice.
And we did, we did, pass that final car on Rt 2 headed east. Be blazed past them with the turbo I held once in my arms.
Oh, how I will miss you!
The lovely feel of you leather, made only from the hides of dead elmos as all saabs are.
And your clock so lovely and in analog.
I miss those silent moments sitting after a ride, just to hear your ticking each second away in the stillness of your love.
The cup holders I bought and with my own hands replaced.
The CD magazine I bought on ebay.
Where will I ever find a car like you, who in all 227,000 miles of its glory, There you sit in the parking lot of the church when I left you last. Oh your oil so brown, so much resembling of peanut butter, oh! if only had I bread and jam. You have treated me so well.
I still dreams of making you will hang on my dear love. I will see if the most skilled russian in the known land can make you purr yet still!
Have not fear but put on courage when you see that operating room. Boris the butcher, he is our friend.
Till next time bid the adue 1996 -1/30/09
Ians right.
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