After three years, I am saying goodbye to my first car.

I always expected to be a car owner like my father, keeping the vehicle as long as physically possible (AKA, running her into the ground), and keeping each scratch and dent she ever got as a memory of the time we spent together. I would keep her running for years and years and say, “oh, this is Baby; she’s the very first car I ever got, and I’ve had her over a decade.”

People are so changeable, aren’t they?

My car has essentially become my friend, my companion, and a little bit my child. When I first got Baby, I was looking at a variety of Nissan cars, such as the Juke, Leaf, Murano, Rogue, etc. I wasn’t really looking for anything other than a hatchback, but as an 18-year-old who had only started her full-time job 3 months ago, my options were pretty limited. See, I needed a car because I was desperately trying to move out of my parents’ house (and closer to my home–Salt Lake City). 

So, when I test-drove the grey Nissan Sentra, she drove “just fine” and looked “just fine” and would work “just fine” for me, so I took her home. It was so nice to have a space entirely my own where I could be alone and relax. When I finally found a new place to live 1-2 months later, Baby carried all my things for me. I remember the tranquility I felt when I pulled the curtain aside to see my car parked right outside my bedroom.

Taking care of my car and getting to know her as a machine was such a privilege. Driving Baby became second nature to me. She also gave me a space to poorly sing along to The Phantom of the Opera at the top of my lungs without disturbing anyone. Driving to and from work gave me the time necessary to prepare myself for the day ahead and to unwind after I clocked out. And with the windows down and music up on a summer night? Bliss.

I may not have fretted much when I scratched or dented her, but I was still very protective of Baby. And in the first week of January 2021, when I walked out to my Baby to see her window smashed in, I was absolutely enraged. Not because of the cost or because something might be missing. No, I was mama-bear furious that some stranger had hurt my car! Tiny pieces of glass were scattered all over the passenger seat and floor, and it just broke my heart to see it. That was my Baby, my first and only car, one of the most important objects in my entire life. We had struggled up and down Capitol Hill in the snow together. We had visited my hometown several times. I had spilled so many sunflower seeds all over the damned seats, and some awful stranger violated her like that. I didn’t even have anything inside worth stealing; no one wins!

As soon as I could afford it, I took her in to get a new window. A new, $400 window not covered by insurance. And I was so happy to see her complete again. That was the most damage she had ever sustained. I had not once been in a car accident with her. In fact, I would argue Baby is the one who saved me from a hospital more than once. It was Baby’s accelerator that saved me from being run off the road at 75MPH by a huge pickup who didn’t see me (or hear me furiously honking). It was Baby’s brakes that saved us from being pinned between an 18-wheeler and the barrier of the freeway in Las Vegas when a trucker just decided to come into our lane when there wasn’t any room for him.

Obviously, a car needs a driver, and she didn’t singlehandedly navigate the situation, but I was still always grateful. Even if, god forbid, something awful happened and I ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere, if I had my Baby, I would at least have shelter and somewhere to sleep. (Plus, her trunk was actually pretty comfortable to lie down in.) My car kept me safe, but she also gave me so much joy.

The first time I drove up to Logan in my car, I was ecstatic. I could finally drive through Logan Canyon in my own car!! I could listen to any music I wanted, roll the windows down, and take in the stunning forest. Driving from Salt Lake to Logan is a very relaxing and scenic drive that I have been on so many times that I didn’t even use a map the first time I drove it myself. It was such a joy to finally make that drive on my own.

In 2019, I drove into Hollywood with the windows down and had one of the most relaxing and memorable drives in those gorgeous hills. Not only did I drive my car all the way to LA, but I also took her to Vegas in 2021, and we got caught in an hours-long traffic jam on the way back in the middle of the Utah desert. But I wasn’t worried. I was driving my beloved car and listening to some tunes and she was keeping us sufficiently cool. We got home eventually, and we were completely fine (though exhausted).

.

When I was driving over to the dealership with Baby, I looked down at the odometer and realized she was a few days shy of her 100,000^th mile. I nearly cried. I had been so excited to celebrate her 100,000^th and planned to make it a big deal and have cake! But things ended up moving faster than I expected and she was still 80 miles away.

So, I missed my exit… And then I missed my exit again. And then I rolled the windows down and I drove and drove all the way up to Willard and back because there was no way in hell I would let Baby go without celebrating this milestone with her.

99,997…

99,998…

99,999…

100,000!!!!!!!

My Baby finally hit 100,000 miles! Another four miles and we pulled into the dealership. I cleared my stuff out of the trunk, gave her a kiss (yeah, literally. I got lipstick on the wheel), and finally turned the keys over. I watched the salesman drive her away and admired the way her paint twinkled in the sunlight.

She was a really good car, the way your family dog is a really good dog. I really owe so much of my current lifestyle and best memories to her. I am excited about my new vehicle, but that beautiful, average, 8-year-old car will always be my Baby.