Goodbye, Old Friend

I received the news today, oh boy. The transmission is shot on my 2001 Mercury Cougar. Damn, I love that car. But at 142,000 miles, it has given up the ghost. God bless you, little brother, you've served me well. Not the least of which was the seven-hour return trip from the wilds of western New York this past weekend, even as the transmission was failing. We made it home but just barely.

Unfortunately, I'm told I don't qualify for the latest congressional boondoggle known as the "Cash for Clunkers" program. I was hoping to get some of my hard-earned tax money back as a down payment, but my trade-in has too many miles on it. No bailout for this taxpayer.

It's funny how we come to love inanimate objects like a car. Many people give them pet names (that's one I don't indulge in), and most of us feel genuine emotion at the time of parting. Except, perhaps, if you're stepping up to the luxury car of your dreams.

Anyway, it looks like I'll never be sailing along again in high-speed splendor, moon roof open, CD player wailing, in that cherry red baby of mine. Now the Cougar joins the long list of cars that have come before it, and it's between the Lord and Ford what I'll drive next.