Yaris 19

I sit here. Alone in a car that has crossed mountains and rivers and valleys to be here. In the crossing the car has accepted dents and key scrapes.

That one puncture is from a parking lot on New Year’s Day when you had food poisoning on our spontaneous trip to Montana. Even though you were sick and there was a blizzard you still made it to the top of the mountain and beat me down by snowboard before keeling over. At some point in the icy motel parking lot another car must have miscalculated and hit this car. But the dent didn’t matter as much as getting you home in time for school to start back and it stands to this day to mark some gross but mostly amazing moments.

we hit 50,000 miles in Colorado. Just passing through the mountains on our way home from home. I got filled with un-used emotions as we pushed through a dangerous pass and you reminded me that not all hard things are bad things, and that slowing down on hard curves is strength, not weakness (so, like, please slow down — babe)

100,000 miles came on the road trips last year. Because suddenly your business kept you far from me on weekdays and I wouldn’t spend a moment of time being anywhere but with you whenever you had the time to be around. So back and forth across the plains and the smokies this car trekked. Every mile more worthwhile than the last.

Somewhere along the way the back seat for filled with white hair from our dogs who travel like pros. I’m forever fighting of the mildewy smell of the lake trips ventured, and camping supplies hauled. New colors sometimes pop up on the doors after sitting in the grocery parking lot.

Every time I’ve come for you it has been in this car — from the first airport moment until the next time you arrive.

So look for me in the same old vehicle that has traveled the length of our time together — which has always been a vast distance — and know that, like the car, I’m always game for the next turn.

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