Goodnight, Sweet Chariot

By Gordon Hopkins It is hard to say goodbye.It is especially hard to say goodbye to someone who has worked so hard. That someone may have been dumpy and beat-up and made a lot of noise and, near the end, failed more often than succeeded, but that someone still tried. In the end, isn’t that really all we could ask?No, I am not writing my own epitaph, though I am sure the above paragraph, or something like it, will probably end up in my obituary. No, I am talking about my mother’s ’97 Bonneville, known affectionately to one and all as “The Death Trap.”My mother hadn’t driven in a long time. I did the driving for her in the last few years. She kept falling apart and we kept putting her back together (The car, I mean, not my mother). When an expensive valve blew and “The Death Trap” could no longer make it up even a mild incline (not unlike myself), I parked her and went in search of a new vehicle.“The Death Trap” remained parked in my driveway. Though my mother could no longer drive and the car could no longer be driven, she couldn’t quite bring herself to get rid of it. I understood. Largely housebound, it represented the last little bit of freedom she had, the knowledge that, theoretically at least, she could climb into that car and go someplace on her own. Even though, intellectually, she knew it wasn’t true.I didn’t push the matter. Why would I? Then, a year ago, my mother died (I despise euphemisms like “passed away”), but the car remained. Still unmoving. I had too many other things going on in my life at the time. The death of a parent involves a lot of phone calls and a shocking amount of paperwork that you don’t think about until it is upon you. I simply couldn’t be bothered to deal with the wreck sitting in my driveway, not bothering anybody.Well, I guess it bothered somebody. I got a letter from the city the other day giving me five days (that doesn’t seem like a lot of time to me) to move the “junked motor vehicle.” She was also described as a “Public Nuisance.” I though that was a bit harsh. I wanted to write back, “Yeah, liked you people are so great.”The city also went to all the trouble of taking pictures of the car and sending them to me. What? Do they think maybe I didn’t realize there was a car sitting in my driveway? Did they think I didn’t know what the car looked like, so needed a picture to help me find it?I know I can’t really bellyache. It’s been sitting there for probably close to two years. In retrospect, I’m surprised it took this long.So, I found someone to haul her away. It was sad but it had to be done.My ordeal isn’t over yet. So far, I still haven’t figured out what my mother did with the title.

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