Farewell to an old "friend".

This car. Oh this car.

This car has taken me wherever I needed to go A and B wise. I got Bridget (yes I named her) while I was in college working at a grocery store on a shoe string budget. Unfortunately, because I was not yet very wise, I also paid for Bridget in cash. (Never do this people)

And I didn't think to get the car checked by my local mechanic, because hey, it rode fine when I took it out for a test drive. (Never do this either)

As a result, it turns out that This Car was a victim of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. It had previously been flooded, someone cleaned it out, got it to run and shipped it to New Jersey to be sold. I was that buyer. I was quite surprised when I began having problems six months after purchasing Bridget. Odd smells (like a gas smell) coming through the vents. The radio not working at all or shutting off after 15 minutes of driving. I took it to my mechanic, who was stunned that I was even driving Bridget.

"This car is so rusted I'm shocked your foot didn't go through the floor when you hit the brakes." he said.
Well. That's not good.
The rust went all the way throughout the car. I even found rust in the gear shift. My dear dad learned of my problem, and paid to have new parts installed to replace the rusted ones, which gave the car new life, and it clunkered along for about 6 more years. But, problems began steadily springing up a few months ago. 
I found rust in my coolant. (Yes. Really.)
The battery died.
The radio still didn't work.
My tailpipe was falling apart.
More rust found in the gear shift.
That smell started coming back.
My windshield wipers randomly starting turning on. (This happened on a date. Luckily, the guy didn't notice since he was following me in his car and when I told him months later, he was a good sport about it and thought it was funny)

When I learned that I needed a new transmission, I'll admit I began to hate Bridget, even if she did take me to many college get togethers. When Dad picked me up at midnight after breaking down, everyone decided Bridget just wasn't safe for me anymore. Dad began secretly looking for a different car for me, as I silently cursed out my old one. (Bridget even made me swear.) Lo and behold, my parents found me THIS:

Not bad eh? Bridget who? The best part about this new car was that I purchased it the right way this time, through a trusted mechanic and friend. The car is like new too.

And so, I've closed an old chapter in my life and entered a second, grown up chapter. My new grown up car. (This time with a working radio and CD player! Thanks parents. I'm about to party like it's 1996.)