The camry is dead, a eulogy

On Friday, June 20th at approximately 5:15 p.m., our Camry died a quiet death. It was very old and it was time for it to go. When something has lived a long full life, it is not a thing of sadness when it goes softly into the long sleep. The Camry was originally my parents' and I had been driving it for almost half of my life. It was model year 1994 and had 214,000 miles on it.

Recently, it had stopped working and was out of commission for several months. When he was finally able to revive it, my mechanic friend told me that the cooling system was rusting, the transmission was going and that massive timing belt failure was imminent. The coolant was a deep orange/copper color. I took it in and had a life-extending radiator flush performed. After what seemed like an agonizing eternity, but was really an agonizing two hours, the mechanic performing the flush came to me and told me that he had done all he could; he had flushed the radiator twelve times with little effect. I thanked him and took my ailing car home.

I put in some transmission fluid, and after that it performed beautifully--almost like it used to. I drove it every day with no problems. I could almost pretend that the inevitable was not near. Then, the window died and wouldn't close. I took it into the shop and they told me the cost and asked if I really wanted to spend that much on a car that is obviously on its way out. They were able to close the window and advised I not open it again. I thanked him and took my ailing car home again.

A few weeks later, I accidentally pressed the wrong button and opened the window a smidge. I couldn't get it back up, so I performed a little open-door surgery of my own. I cut the wires that are responsible for raising and lowering the window and attached a rope to the window sled. This way, I could close the window simply by pulling on the rope and then tying it onto the door handle. It was not an elegant sight.

We, the Camry and I, went on this way for a couple months until that fateful Friday, two weeks ago. It is only now that I can bring myself to speak of it.

The day was unremarkable, unlike any other. I had driven a couple slugs to work and a couple others home. Upon arriving home, I left again to take Elise to gymnastics. I dropper her off and started home. About two miles down the road the engine cut out and I drifted over the side of the road, knowing this was it--the Camry would never move of its own accord again.

There was much discussion of whether it even made sense to pay someone to tow it to the shop. In the end, we decided we should do so, just in case. We all knew it was futile, but still we hoped. Within hours, the shop called with the cause of death; the timing belt had given out. It gave its all right up to the last. It ensured that the slugs made it home and that Elise arrived safely at gymnastics. But then it could give no more and was gone.

Farewell, Camry. We thank you.