It’s time we say goodbye. We had a good run, you and I. We met at a time when I really needed you, when I’d been abandoned by someone else. But, unfortunately, we’ve outgrown each other. Or rather, I’ve outgrown you.
You’ve aged, Gloria. It happens to the best of us, old friend: creaks, hot flashes, and even leaks. Don’t be embarrassed. Even if Steve shamed you, you couldn’t help it; incontinence is more common than you think.
But Gloria, if I’m being honest– and if I can’t be honest now, when can I? You just weren’t cool anymore, and I couldn’t escape the heat. It’s not your fault. You tried, you really did, but it wasn’t enough, and you ended up blowing hot air.
Despite all your shortcomings, Gloria, I could always depend on you. You protected me; you always had my back.
There’s no one else who would rock out to early-2000’s mix CDs, windows down, belting out Jessica Simpson’s “Angel,” with me. No one who shared my fear of car washes, like you do, and no one else who understood the absolute necessity of Google Maps like you did.
You taught me many things, Gloria: how to put air in tires, not to park too close to a fire hydrant, and how to parallel park.
We hit a number of milestones together, too! Remember when we hit 100 k? And the first time I drove on the expressway (at the perfectly acceptable age of 23)? Not to mention beating the world record* for most bird poop on one car.
Rest assured, Gloria, that I will never forget you. Thank you for putting up with my horrible car-dance moves and less than stellar driving ability.
*Ok, maybe not a world record, but it was A LOT.