It’s not easy to say goodbye to a dear friend. Especially when that friend has been with me through thick and thin, rain and wind, northbound and southbound. But after ten years and 180,000 miles, I was riding on thin tread and I knew it was time to get a new car.
I am not the first person in America to develop an emotional attachment to my automobile. My first car was a Datsun B-210. I named it “Phil” (as in “Phil the car”). Sometime I referred to it as Phillip. It’s the car I drove when Eve and I went out on our first date. Though I am sure that my Datsun B-210 long ago ascended to the Great Scrapheap in the Sky, I still carry the ignition key with me wherever I go.
I’ve owned other cars since. However, I’ve never kept one for ten years and for so many miles. Sure its body was not in great condition. There were sizable scrapes on the bumpers and fenders. There is a simple explanation why. For five years I lived in San Francisco. Nobody who lives in the city has a car in pristine condition. Damage to a car’s body is part of the price you pay for urban living.
But over the course of a decade, the car held up beautifully. So when it seemed like the right time to buy an automobile with updated features, I had little difficulty deciding to purchase the exact same vehicle. Besides, the car has a Hebrew name. “Rav” is the Hebrew word that means “Rabbi.” As I begin my eleventh year of service to Temple Beth Torah, I am always proud to be a Rav4 you.