A Theatrical Tale of Our Beloved Car

Our family's journey from "two to three" began with the Civic 2000, our very first car. On January 10, 2010, we proudly brought our two-day-old baby girl home from the hospital, cradled in the comfort of our newly acquired vehicle. My uncle, the car dealer, adeptly handled the details while we were occupied in the hospital, adjusting to the new phase of life and cherishing our new addition.

We didn't have to go through the hassle of buying and paperwork. My husband was handed over the car, of course, after the payment. Conveniently, his showroom happened to be just within walking distance of the hospital where I was admitted.

Barely 21 years old, my husband, beaming with pride, chauffeured us to my mom's house after my hospital discharge. The car became more than just a means of transportation; it became a part of our family. You might be thinking, "Why proud, it's just a car?" Let me tell you, I still remember his face. It was glowing from the inside out. He was over the moon, both from this acquisition and the birth of our baby daughter. I have never seen him this happy until now.

Over the years, our faithful Civic amassed an impressive 334,862 kilometers, proving her reliability day in and day out. She started up dutifully, ready to serve, and my husband never missed an opportunity to sing her praises, even if few were willing to listen.

Her loyalty was tested on one such dark, fateful night when my husband, alone on the road, faced a potentially life-threatening situation. The car skidded against an unseen ridge, causing it to topple. Miraculously, my husband emerged with only a few bruises. Believe me, it really was no less than a miracle, if I could show you the pictures of the wreckage. The villagers who rushed to the scene couldn't believe he had survived the wreckage. She wasn't just a car; she was a guardian. My husband sent me the pictures afterward, and I couldn't control my tears. I sobbed uncontrollably. I still remember; I was at my parents' home, and my father said, "They don't make cars like this anymore. It's built strong. He was lucky."

Many people suggested that we get rid of this car after the accident. I don't know why, perhaps because it bore so much damage and its reliability was in question, but we never listened. We had no doubts, and, well, to be honest, no resources either to switch to another one. This car was courtesy of my husband's father. Yes, I have good in-laws. So, we got her fixed, and she was as good as new. Not Brand new! But good to go another thousands of miles.

Our Civic was more than just a vehicle; it became the backdrop for significant milestones. I learned to drive in its reliable embrace, and so did our daughter. Through scorching summers and freezing winters, she remained steadfast, taking us to places far and wide. (I'm tearing up...)

_{They are not on main road, just wandering in our domestic camp}

Today marked her last day with us after 14 years of loyalty. The emotions were overwhelming as I bid her farewell, too sentimental to express to go and see her for the last time. So, I sent my kids outside to capture the final good-byes in photographs, a tribute to the memories she carried.

In the end, parting ways became inevitable. Her needs surpassed what we could provide. As the kids were taking her pictures, the sun made its hood reflect, and I could feel that it was the last wink from her, assuring me, "it's going to be okay."