The End of an Era

I just bought a new car and I am feeling sad.

Don’t get me wrong, I am super excited about the new car. Well, as excited as a person can be who really isn’t that interested in cars beyond them being comfortable and reliable.

But beneath the excitement, I am experiencing a deep, almost primal sadness.

Not over the car itself, but over all the memories and meanings attached to it.

The RAV4 was only the second car I ever owned. My first was a Daihatsu Charade. I had spent months researching and dreaming about the RAV4. The cost was eye-watering. When I found one at a fantastic price—thousands below what they were retailing for at the time—I was thrilled.

Thrilled, and also terrified to test drive it.

So my (then) husband test drove it, with me safely in the passenger seat.

Even after we completed the purchase, I was nervous driving it. It was a beast compared to the Charade. But being shiny and new, it soon became an absolute dream to drive.

My girl would have been approximately three years old when we bought the RAV4, making her just one year younger than the car.

You could say they grew up together.

It transported us to swimming lessons, gymnastics, dance classes, play dates, trips to the zoo, music lessons, drama classes, theatre performances, kindergarten, primary school, intermediate, and high school. It carried us to Hamilton, Rotorua, Tauranga, Wellington, and back again.

We didn’t only ride in that car. We ate meals on the go in that car. And yes, from time to time, we both slept in that car.

We sang.

We laughed.

At times, we cried.

Oh, but the conversations that took place in that car.

So much life unfolded within—and because of—that car.

Then my girl grew up.

And once I became an empty nester, that same car carried me to my new home.

A million miles away.

Across land and sea.

There is something strange about the meanings we attach to ordinary objects. A car is, after all, a car. Metal, glass, rubber, plastic. Something designed to transport us from one place to another.

Except it can become so much more than that.

An object can quietly accompany us through an entire chapter of our lives. It sits there in the background while everything changes around it, collecting memories without us ever noticing that is what it is doing.

Until it is time to let it go.

Today I said goodbye to my beloved RAV4.

And as I type this, tears are streaming down my face.

It isn’t so much for the car itself, but for what it represents. The meaning it held. The life that happened while it was mine.

I am not grieving the object.

I am grieving the end of an era.