Dear Ava,
When you came into my life that late April Saturday in 2008, the day of the Alison Krauss and Robert Plant concert, I was so excited. I immediately began daydreaming about the hypothetical trips to the beach, to Auburn, and the countless days we would enjoy together bouncing around Birmingham, soaking up the sun.
My beloved Accord, Black Velveteen, had been taken away from me too soon by some crazy teenager without a driver's license and insurance. I was really counting on her being my rock for getting me around town for another few years.
I drove my uncle's Pathfinder around for a few weeks, pondering what I would get to replace Black Velveteen, and those Audis really caught my eye. I test drove an Acura because I promised myself when I got Black Velveteen my next car would be an Acura. But I just couldn't bring myself to spend THAT MUCH on a car with all that computer stuff I didn't even knew existed, much less, would ever need.
When I saw you, I knew you were THE ONE.
But when the dealership started keeping us apart for days, and eventually weeks, at a time, I began to get concerned.
I want you to know it's not your fault. The people who created you left too much to go wrong.
I will miss our too few trips to Auburn. I was really looking forward to breathing that fresh Auburn air this fall with you.
I will miss "going topless" with you whenever the weather permitted.
But I will not miss having you break down hours away from your doctor and having you towed away from me, leaving me stranded and having to rely on taxis to get me around. Or having you randomly break down and have to go to the doctor during the most perfect convertible weather of the season.
I want you to know, if I could trust you would stay well, I might consider keeping you a while longer, but seeing as how you have depreciated so much in the past year, I think our time was borrowed, at best.
Farewell, dear Ava. It's been good for the most part, but not enough.
Loves Your Mommy,
Girl Sunday
