Grieving a Car

How does one grieve a car?

Is that even a thing, or am I weird?

They’re just things. Expensive, useful objects that require maintenance and insurance. Yet, one can grow attached to them.

My two oldest brothers named their first car, purchased from an uncle, Gomper. It was green, one of those large, bulbous 1950s models. I think it was a Buick, because I remember referring to it as a “three-hole” car. Googling 1950s car with three holes on the sides, Buicks pop up. Which makes sense, because both my father and uncle favored Buicks.

Those holes were called “port holes.” Some models had four. I remember a road trip game my brothers and I would play in the ‘60s: who could spot the most three- or four-hole cars from the back of our Buick station wagon. Since the cars we sought were already old, the game got harder to play each year.

Gomper’s interior smelled musty, reminding me of the old car my Kansas grandparents drove us around in when we visited.

The stuff one remembers!

But I digress.

Unlike my brothers, I’ve never named my cars. I’ve owned a few over the past 49 years: a used 1974 red Chevrolet Vega (the “Vegamatic” was one derisive nickname); a 1984 Subaru wagon; a used 1991 red Mazda Miata for fun and a new 1996 Honda Civic hatchback (also red) for hauling my first Malamute, Opus, after the Subaru reached 220,000 miles and I sold it to a teenager. After Opus died, I got Maia and two years later, in 2001, I got Meadow. I traded the Civic in on a silver 2001 Mazda Tribute because the girls and I needed more space.

The Tribute was perfect. An SUV with four-wheel drive, the dogs could stand in the back (with the rear seats down) without having to hunker down, which is why I got it instead another Subaru. Lots of room to lie down, too, even if I stored some gear back there with them. The Tribute was perfect for back road adventures and snow. It was reliable. In 2011, when it had just over 200,000 miles, I decided it was time to get a new car. I asked my trusted mechanic, Cliff, what model he would recommend.

“Do you like your Tribute?”

“Yes. Love it.”

“Then get another Tribute. That’s been a good vehicle for you.”

Excellent advice.

I found a used 2008 Tribute, white, with 30,000 miles on it. It was larger than the 2001 model, which I didn’t like, but whatever. So, in 2011, my second Tribute became another adventure car, with enough room for three dogs after I added Aussie Finn to our pack in 2008. On long road trips, all three learned to adjust their positions whenever any of them got up to stretch. They never had a dispute, despite many long days spend in that small space.

It’s that 2008 Tribute—and by extension, the 2001 model that preceded it—that I’m grieving.

After many years and miles, it got me, Finn, and Conall safely from Idaho to Vermont in 2021. But since arriving in Vermont, things kept failing. Expensive things. For example, within weeks of getting to Vermont, the transmission failed. I replaced it with a used transmission. Then the battery died. Then part of the exhaust system broke. A broken rear wiper. One thing after another. The final blow was a small leak in the gas tank. The cost to replace it would have exceeded the value of the car.

It pained me to even consider parting ways with the vehicle that the dogs and I had grown so attached to—an integral part of our pack—but I knew it was necessary. It had become a money pit.

Sadly, Mazda discontinued the Tribute in 2011.

Time for a completely new type of car.

***

I knew what I wanted: a Toyota RAV4 Prime (a plug-in hybrid). I wanted one three years ago, as I was planning my move from Idaho to Vermont, but there were none to be found.

This would be a huge, expensive splurge. I’d been saving up for three years, but I still had many sleepless nights contemplating it. I convinced myself this would be my last car, given my age (67) and how few miles I drive now that I’m retired. It should last me at least 15 years, if not more, by which time I’ll trade it in on a retirement community electric golf cart.

Let me say here: buying a new car today is SO MUCH NICER AND EASIER than in years past. In fact, I had always considered that chore so awful, especially as a single woman in a man’s world, that from the Mazda Miata on, I hired a car broker to find and negotiate the purchase of all of my cars, new or used. I started down that road for this most recent purchase, only to learn that at least here in Vermont, car brokers aren’t a thing. Why? Because auto makers allow you to select the car you want online, without all the stupid negotiating, and arrange for it to appear at a nearby dealership. You can check MSRP for that vehicle in your area to make sure the price you’re getting is reasonable.

I needed to do a test drive first, so I went to a nearby Toyota dealer. The sales rep who accompanied me on the test was chill and laid back. I’d done my research and knew what bells and whistles I wanted and didn’t want. He didn’t argue or try to upsell me. When he said a gray RAV4 Prime would arrive at the dealership in a couple weeks and showed me what it included, there were several small things I didn’t need or want to pay for (e.g., rear cargo space rubber mats). I said I’d take the vehicle, but only if those add-on items weren’t included.

“They all have those things added. Let me ask the manager what we can do.”

Upshot: I got all the extra stuff for free.

I also quickly and easily negotiated a trade-in value for my Tribute.

I paid a deposit and waited for my new car to arrive.

Almost too easy. I think doing all this three days before the end of July helped. Sales people are eager to meet monthly quotas/targets.

As I drove to the dealership two weeks later to pick up my new car, a flood of memories of the good times spent in the Tribute hit me. I realized my trusty Tributes hauled me and all of my dogs (except Opus) countless miles on too-many-to-count adventures. To trailheads in Washington and Idaho. To 20 years of dog camp sessions. The vehicle interiors, especially in the back where the dogs rode, collected road dust, mud and dirt, and lots of dog fur, proof of all those hours spent seeking off-pavement trailheads.

I referred to both Tributes as The Rolling Dog Crate.

But that was as close as I ever came to naming one of my cars.

Until now.

I wanted my new car to have a worthy name, one that would evoke all the adventures-with-dogs to come, especially since I plan to return to Idaho in the next few months.

A friend who knows me well and has listened to me blather on about wolves for years suggested Gray Wolf.

Perfect.

(Thank you, Miki.)

I love my new car. She’s powerful yet nimble. Quiet when in EV mode. I plug my Android smart phone in and my GPS/maps and Amazon music appear on the small digital screen on the dash. “Google, play…” and I hear what I want without engine noise drowning it out. I can make or take phone calls, all hands free.

For someone who went from a 2008 model car with a broken CD player and no outside temperature gauge, the electronics on this vehicle are incredible. Cameras show me what’s behind me as I’m reversing, or sense if a car or person is coming from the side as I’m backing out of a parking spot and alert me. Side cameras warn if I’m too close to a center line or to another vehicle on either side. The smart cruise control automatically slows if I’m gaining on a slower vehicle in front of me. The list goes on. I’m still figuring a lot of things out, but overall, I can see how much safer and comfortable driving will be in this car, especially long distances. (Did I mention heated seats and steering wheel for winter?)

Gray Wolf gets nearly 600 miles on a tank of gas with electric mode mixed in. I can charge it at home and do chores close to home entirely on electric mode. I’ve had her since early August and the gas tank is still over three-quarters full.

The dogs have been slower to embrace Gray Wolf. Chann was nervous to get in at first, but a few treats convinced him to jump into the back. I bought some steps for Conall, so he wouldn’t have to jump in or out; his knees no longer allow that. He’s wary of the steps, though, so we’re working on that. (Chann avoids the steps by leaping in.) And Finn, about to turn 17, will probably never ride in Gray Wolf; too stressful on him (and me) to lift him in and out.

***

Many things – photos, music, smells, sounds, tastes, plants, animals, landscapes – can spark fond memories.

And while the memories always remain tucked away in our brains, the things that bring them to the forefront of our consciousness sometimes disappear.

Like my Tributes.

It was hard saying goodbye to both.

Not being into cars that much, I have only a handful of photos that include any I’ve owned. But there are a few with the Tributes: wet, muddy dogs huddled in the back after a rain-soaked trail run; hot dogs resting in the shade cast by the car in a dusty trailhead parking lot; excited dogs looking through the windows at sheep or cattle blocking the road ahead.

Those will have to do.

Going forward, I’m determined to take lots of photos of Gray Wolf with her precious cargo of dogs and the places she takes us, all to help me reminisce when, years from now, I have to trade her in for that electric golf cart.

Feature image: Maia and Meadow in the back of my 2001 Mazda Tribute in Idaho, April 2007. I added a Twistep to the trailer hitch so it would be easier for them to jump in and out, reducing stress on their joints. I transferred the Twistep to the 2008 Tribute. When not needed for the dogs, it rotated under the body of the car. Loved it.