Farewell Old Friend

I just woke up. It’s almost three. I could have slept till five if I wanted. Why did I wake up so late you ask. Good question. Was it a party that kept me out? Kind sorta, not really. Was I doing my routine late Friday night drug deals? Not last night. It was for a friend who only has two days left, and I thought I owed him one last adventure.

My van, Leonard, is being junked on Monday. It’s like a death in the family.

I remember when I first got leonard. He was big, obnoxious green, worn, and a van. What kind of high school student wants to drive that? I hated being seen in that thing and refused to drive anywhere where that would be a possibility.

But that was until I realized what a treasure Leonard was. His back seat allowed ample room for sleeping and changing clothes, two activities I have done often in the confines of the beast. After orchestra concerts, when we all go out, or perhaps a crazy big night out, I can fit fourteen people back there, not legally of course, but fuck da po po. I have almost died in him, maneuvering through snow covered roads. Countless times my friends and I would get stuck in the snow banks of Kennedy doing donuts in their parking lot. People have plastered his windows with writings, that mean nothing, but everything to me. I’m a sentimental person. Not for objects really, but for emotions mostly. Every good memory I have stemmed from Leonard himself. He’s my buddy, he’s my friend. We’re pals.

Earlier this year, I decided to take a solo road trip, just me, leonard, and some fresh sheets of parchment. I was going to pack a small army duffel with, at max, five shirts and five shorts, possibly some undies, and hit the road, no direction necessary. For three weeks, it was going to be Leonard and me, bumming around the U.S. , totally chill. But then he got sick. I couldn’t drive him longer than fifteen minutes during the day. Our couples vacation was ruined.

And so to celebrate his life, and help me mourn his death, I decided to take a mini road trip. With a full tank of gas, last night, at 1:30, we left with a pillow, blanket, and an army bag with a book, a moleskin, my i-Pod, and a pen. I drove, for a good 2 hours, jamming to tunes, serenading Leonard with my angel’s voice. Then I got tired, so I pulled over into a Wal-Mart parking lot, parked my friend, and slept for two hours. I drove back home, early this morning, reflecting on the two years we’ve spent together. This post is a memorial to Leonard the van. May his legacy live on.

They say you never forget your first car. You never forget a friend either.

Peace.