A breakup letter to my first car - ChicagoNow (blog)

In 1994 I bought my first car, a 1985 Dodge Daytona, for $1300. I was so anxious to drive that I got the car before I got my license. We always remember our first car, and mine was no different. What follows is the farewell letter I should have written to my first car, if I’d thought of it. And if it could read. This isn't my car, but it's very similar. It just occurred to me that I never named you. What kind of guy gets a car and then fails to name it. Maybe I’ll call you Betsy. That’s what my dad always named our cars when we were kids. I guess it’s silly to name you now, but your lack of a name doesn’t mean that I loved you any less. Let’s remember the good times. Like when I learned to drive you. Thanks to awesome grandparents, I’d been driving sporadically since I was twelve years old, but I’d never driven a stick shift before. Thankfully, my dad knows how to drive a stick so he taught me. I apologize for that burnt clutch you suffered while I was learning. But really, has anyone ever learned to drive a stick and not burnt the clutch. No hard feelings, eh. And while we’re at it, do you think you can find it in your heart (or transmission or engine or whatever cars have instead of a heart) to forgive me for running out of gas. I know, I know, most people only have to run out of gas once before they vow never to do it again, but I learned something all three times I ran out of gas with you. Source: www.chicagonow.com