Ode to a Ford Taurus

Dear Ford Taurus,

My parents bought you from some sketchy Russians, and when my old car died, you were bequeathed to me. We had some good times, Ford Taurus. You broke down in Madison, Wisconsin. You broke down in Astoria, Oregon. You successfully towed a U-Haul trailer across the country, and your lack of fuel-efficient air conditioning almost killed my cat. Good times, good times.

But now your transmission is shot, and not even the weird people on Craigslist want you. I have to take you to a junkyard. I know it's an ignoble end for a car that has served so well, but maybe if you hadn't crapped out so unexpectedly, or left me stranded in this little New England town, I would be more moved by your plight.

I wanted to take you to Boston again, and up the coast to Maine. We could have driven to New York, and I know I promised you a trip to Detroit (the land of your birth), but now I'll be taking the trains and buses. Farewell Ford Taurus. I hope your parts make other car-owners happy.

Sincerely,



Ian