Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Farewell, Fair Truckerella. Hello, Frieda: A Pictorial

Truckerella, my Mountaineer, saw me through my late-20s to my mid-30s.
I got Truckerella in late 2003, when my Dad felt I needed a more reliable vehicle for going back and forth to Harrisburg, where I then had a boyfriend (a man, who, funnily enough, sold used BMWs). At the time, I was driving my Mom's 1998 Mountaineer--hunter green--whose check engine light persistently flickered on while I drove up and down the white-knuckle highway known as Route 83. And so, Truckerella, as I came to call her, came into my life, thanks to the fantastic generosity of my parents (to whom I am very grateful). I drove Truckerella everywhere, and over the years, several men have sat in the passenger seat, including: a male cheerleader (yes, yes, I know...giggle away if you like); a former Calvin Klein model-turned banker from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Later, an astrophysicist from Baltimore, Maryland. Still later, a Redbone Coonhound breeder, with whom I went out once and who inspired this letter-story appearing at Yankee Pot Roast in 2005. Yes, the guy pulled it out in the passenger seat of my truck, to my utter shock. Note to boys everywhere: this is really not an advisable first date move. This memorable and slightly horrifying moment is the only reason I include the guy in the list. I don't even remember his name, just the absolute horror of realizing what he had in mind for me that evening. He made an impression in all the wrong ways.

And then, I came back to Pittsburgh and met Michael a day after I arrived. Michael took and kept that passenger seat. So, Truckerella has a great deal of sentimental value. She was with me through the last vestiges of my twenties and through my early thirties. I wanted to drive her for ten years, but she kept falling apart. We've sat along the road twice: once in searing heat and once in freezing cold, along Route 22 in the dead of winter. After three towing bills, and numerous repair bills, I began to feel Truckerella was letting me down. And when the window broke last Friday, I had to let a good girl go.

On Saturday, at a Kia dealship in Robinson Township, outside Pittsburgh, Michael and I found Frieda. It was the first car we saw. It was the only car we drove (if you don't count the Jetta wagon we test drove last year, around this time). Now a new life chapter begins. Pictures follow:

Michael makes sure Truckerella's 'chastity consol'
doesn't still have any CDs. We're saying goodbye to her.

Our salesman Tom Cole at #1 Cochran holds Frieda's
driver's side door open for me.

At Michael's mom's house, Michael claims the
passenger seat again for all time. I'd already reserved
it for him. :-)

At home, nightfall. Of course, we've been cruising. The speakers light
up and change color inside. We had to experience that after dark.

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