for helga

i remember the first time we became mutually acquainted. i had just buckled in, my dad sweating up a storm, repeating over and over, "just step on the brake and put the gear into drive, lightly step on the gas pedal". i nearly crashed her into our garage.

but hey, i didn't. she took me wherever i wanted. to high school, to the mall, to restaurants, to friends' houses. i remember the time i tried to fit the entire varsity girls tennis team into her. i remember the time i accidentally forgot to turn her headlights off and richard sat there with me waiting for AAA. i remember the time i accidentally bumped you into that BMW. and that mercedes. and the door of christine's red accord.

but you were there for me, and understood, and forgave me. i remember when i tried to race you down diamond bar blvd. i remember the time i let brenda drive you when she didn't even have her license. i remember all those times i trusted amy with your care, even knowing the way she drives. i remember all those mornings when i'd get our of our apartment senior year at berkeley and see your familiar silouette. i remember the time i drove you to lake chabot for psp retreat and had good times in the back. i remember how you drove us faithfully to mammoth for the past 10 years.

i remember that fall afternoon when unexpectedly, that burgandy nissan pathfinder (oh the irony) rammed into your rear and misaligned your bumper. i remember how i used to worry those two weeks you spent at the body shop, hoping you'd be okay. i remember how i packed you from head to toe with everything from bookshelves to clothes to kitchen supplies to lamps to tvs when i drove you home for the last time from berkeley. i remember you being there with me as i explored every corner of the city, from laguna beach to newport to huntington to west hollywood to century city to brentwood to santa monica.

i didn't want to tell you but this past weekend you scared me half to death. i started you up, and as i was placing my starbucks in the cup holder you just suddenly died and came back on, resetting your clock and making my heart race a mile a minute. i think it scared me not only because i now had thoughts of you failing in the middle of the road but that you are gradually getting weaker, sicker. i know you're now 11 years old, but hey, honestly, you look much younger.

so this is to helga, my trusty forest green 1995 toyota 4runner that has sustained me since i was 16. we've had some great memories, great times, great experiences. she's not out of commission just yet, no, she's not going down like that, but we're going to give her the rest she deserves.

on that note, make way for my new sidekick. if you see a white acura TL with a black interior, that just might be me.