Farewell, my reliable friend. We logged tens of thousands of miles over the seven years we were together, and I am sorry to see you go. But be comforted -- you are not being replaced, only retired. 15 years old, and not a moment wasted. In your memory, I write this diary:
Purchased in 2001 for the good deal of $2300, you, my 1993 4dr Nissan Sentra XE manual transmission sedan were quickly dubbed "the Mighty Nissan Part Two" -- and you certainly were mighty. Sturdy and true, reliable and low maintenance. I loved your color and shape -- that dusky blue with the squared corners that revealed your age. Your tight turning radius and stability, which allowed me to hug and navigate with surprising agility. I loved your automatic shoulder seat belts (mostly because they scared my mother). I loved how proudly you bore the Obama campaign sticker (and how well it matched)!
We traveled nearly 100,000 miles of roads rural and urban, interstate and unnamed, empty and standing still like a parking lot. We braved the twisted and rutted and wash-boarded gravel roads of the Rocky Mountains, for two years we battled the aggression and congestion of southside and downtown Chicago, we did the 14-hour marathon between Colorado and Wisconsin numerous times, and we took the daily Denver commutes with aplomb. We got lost. We found our way again.
We survived the guffawing and ridicule of driving home with two disconnected (but wired into place) front and rear exhaust junctions, every miniscule acceleration making you sound like a dragster. We thanked the burly fireman who brought the pipe to remove your flattened tire for free. We cursed the shoddy mechanics who charged ans arm and a leg for said muffler repairs, then found out later they were done improperly, without sufficient parts, a forgotten bracket and led to the subsequent repairs of the cracked manifold (twice!). We felt ashamed when the alternator died at an inopportune moment, making Kristen (and cake) late to her own birthday party.
Ahhh, only a true friend could love you despite your flaws. The dings and dents and scratches. The cracked passenger side rear view mirror. The brittle, cracking, and breaking rubber edging on the windows and seams. The ever-growing rust hole on the lower driver's side door with accompanying rust ridges on your rear fenders. The bolt through the right rear bumper which used to sag because the joint rusted away. The same driver's door which improperly sealed and so created ever-present wind noise (which I no longer even noticed), the inability to go through an automatic car wash because I didn't want to be washed too, and the necessity of leaving the dome light in permanently 'off' position so as not to inadvertently drain the battery when left parked out of sight.
Only a true friend would love the semi-sealed trunk, which covered its contents with dust or dampness depending on the terrain or weather, and which never opened with the key but only ever by the trunk release lever inside. Only I would put up with your delapidated radio, the permanently inserted CD player adaptor, missing knobs, and inconsistent volume controls that, if jiggled incorrectly, needed a pair of pliers to operate. The defunct air conditioning, outdated and therefore too expensive to replace.
Just a few days ago, I traded you away. I cried as I emptied my personal items and removed decals and parking tags I would later need. I cried during that final commute to work. At the time, you needed an oil change. Your alignment was off for the first time since I've known you. The power steering was starting to squeal and stiffened noticeably in cold weather. The seatbelt light would flash and beep occasionally for no apparent reason. And so, the dealership wanted to give me only $100 for your trade -- but because of your good transmission, good engine, new alternator, relatively new struts and brake rotors, I talked them into $500. Now I drive your newer counterpart, a 2002 Nissan Sentra GXE manual transmission 4dr sedan. Hopefully you will not begrude me the upgrade. Though I do need to buy a new Obama sticker...
But know this, though you mean absolutely nothing to them but parts and pieces, you mean a great deal to me. You will be missed, my fine old gal. Rest in peace -- and may your pieces keep cars like you running reliably on the road for years to come. What a grand little car.