Letter to My Jetta

Dear 2000 Silver Jetta,

We've had some good times, you and I. We've had some good times, and some bad times. I know I've been hard on you--I've run you into rocks, backed you into trashcans and used your bumper to hurl my parent's recycling bin. My clumsy auto skills have run you up on curbs, taken you over dirt roads with lots of rocks. I nearly burned up your clutch learning to drive, almost stalled you out over hills and ran up your odometer with tons of interstate miles.

We've had some good times, you and I, dear Jetta. Remember all the long drives to Shreveport and Austin, dancing to music and looking at the pretty trees? Remember the leopard seat covers that made you look so pretty? Even if they did squirm around worse than a thong on a big lady's behind, they sure were nice.

You've hauled shameful colorguard poles, semester loads of crap (freshman year was the biggest) and moved me four different times. You've traveled through three different cities, and traveled up and down I-35 dozens of times. No matter how much mud, paper, dirty kleenexes, old food, books, crumbled newspapers, umbrellas I shoved in your interior, you always looked nice to me.

For all the abuse you suffered at my inexperienced hands, you never let me down. You never left me stranded on the side of the road during a rainstorm, or busted out a tire. Tirelessly and loyally, you shuffled me back and forth for seven years.

Dear Jetta, you've been a big part of my life. You were my first car, my first love of automobiles. You took me to my prom and drove me home from my wedding. You took me to college and to my first real job. You've navigated countless cities, driven to countless places and been to four different malls.

From high school to my twenties, you've been there. And for that, I will always love you. I want to thank you for seven years of dependability and loyal service.

I know it may seem I'm throwing you to the wolves, but I'm not. I can tell you're tired, dear Jetta. I can tell the forty miles a day are wearing on you, that the stop and go traffic is hurting your soul. You're not meant to just shuffle back and forth on a interstate all day long. You're meant to drive. You need someone with adventure and spirit. Right now, I can't give that to you.

This is a sacrifice of love, for both you and I. In the end, we'll both be better for it. You'll find a college student in need, someone who needs a safe, dependable car. Someone that will spend their evenings driving under the stars, your headlights lighting up the night sky. You need that dear Jetta. I want that for you.

So thank you, again. I will always remember you, and what you did for me.

Love,

The Blonde Duck