Today we say goodbye to the last Volvo, the 16-year-old S90 that hubby bought 13 years ago and drove for eight years before giving it to the youngest five years ago. (Who says I can't do math?) We've always been a Volvo kinda family. Hubby's' first car was a Volvo. Mine was a tin can of a Datsun. But eventually, he brought me over to the Volvo side. I'm not sure what I loved the most about my early Volvos. The spectacular turning radius? The rear-wheel drive? The boxy shape? The spacious trunk? The practical design? The Volvo was never a "look-at-me" car. It was a car that said, with a Swedish accent, "Roll with me, I'll get you where you need to go in one piece." I gave my favorite Volvo to the eldest when he started to drive, and upgraded to a newer Volvo, a bluish beauty that took me safely to my destination. Over time, however, the Volvos lost their luster, the overall Swedishness that hooked us from the start. The features we loved the most faded away. The Volvo started to resemble all the other cars on the road. The Volvo lost its Volvo-ness. The SJG was the first to swap keys. I went Japanese, and slowly dragged the rest of my peeps with me. Today we say goodbye to the last Volvo. Happy trails to you, my friend. Let someone else drive you into the ground. Be well, old Volvo. Turn, turn, turn.
No comments:
Post a Comment