If you can see the photo you can see that my odometer went to 123456 this past week, on our 2001 Chevy Malibu. Not that the number 123,456 is anything special but it took 12 years, 5 months(4513 days/27.36 miles per day, on average), to get there. My girls grew up in that car. They went from 9 to 22 and 4.5 to 17. I recall being in the yard doing some work and they would pull in from being out shopping or swimming or piano lessons and their heads were barely above the window line. I could see their little hands waving clearly, though. We have had the car for more than half of the years we have been married (22). It has been the source for getting from A to B, and back, thousands of times. Whether that is home to school, home to grocery shopping, home to the dentist or doctor, home to sporting activities; it has been a part of our lives through all of those things. Outside of my immediate family all my nieces and nephews (13 of them) have grown as well. The next generation has started in our family as my oldest niece has 2 girls and my oldest nephew’s son was born in August. I don’t know if I can say that I love that car but I do love the time it represents. On the other hand, we returned from Tokyo in August 2001 and were only home for a short 2 weeks before tragedy struck. I got in that car to go somewhere that had a TV. We had been staying in a hotel and were only in the house for 1-2 days when it happened. That car waited in many a “drop off” and “pick up” line. It got us to Florida and back at least 3 times. It got us/me to Norman, OK and back at least half a dozen times. I could go on with things that don’t mean anything to anyone but me/us. I think all of us remember, or still own a car, fondly. Not necessarily for the vehicle itself but for things that happened in our lives for as long as it’s wheels rolled underneath us.
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