04.15.10 Random Musings

An Ode to Bertha

Bertha.  My darling, darling Bertha.

We’ve had some great times together.

I first learned how to drive in you, in the speed-bump filled Centaurus High School parking lot.  In you, I made my maiden highway driving voyage (and was subsequently petrified of driving on speedy Colorado highways).  We had some good times in Colorado.

And then Seattle.  You housed countless Jay Inslee for Congress signs during my stint on the campaign.  You were packed to the brim and dropped me off at Lander Hall in late August 2002 for the start of my UW career.  And you carried those possessions throughout the many, many moves I would make during those four years.

You were, essentially, my home during junior year, when I commuted from Mill Creek.  I cherish those 6 a.m. drives (to get onto campus for a godforsaken 8:30 biochemistry class).  Blasting The Killers and the Dandy Warhols, you got me to and from campus safely and comfortably (a difficult feat, considering the abysmal Seattle traffic).

I nearly had a heart attack when you went missing on me, due to my irresponsibility of parking you in a tow zone.  Your Aunt Kari rescued me and you, bailing you out of car jail.  You kicked it into high gear, getting me to Mill Creek slightly late (on time by Indian standards) to pick up my parents from the house and drop them off to the airport for the last time in Seattle.  You then lugged all my possessions and got onto a truck of your own.  I missed you over those 6 weeks, and was delighted to see you in North Carolina for a start of a whole new adventure.

My parents cruelly separated us a couple of months later, and took you back to Philly, and left “The Babe” with me for the remainder of the year.  The Babe…psssh.  I missed you, Bertha.  And was very happy to be with you again once I came back to Philly.

You and I conquered Philly together–the good areas of Rittenhouse, the sketchy areas of Broad Street, the traffic-laden I-76.  My nephews fell as hard for you as I did.  We all love you, Bertha.

And now, the time has come to say good-bye.  I scoff when my parents tell me that you’re getting old, that it’s time to go our separate ways.  Sure, your front passenger door has a little issues, but I don’t mind reaching over and opening the door.  You may roar when you start, but it’s just a sign of your strength.  We’re still great together, you and me.  But I guess *cough*PARENTS*cough* don’t see that.

I’m not ready to say good-bye, but I guess I never will be.  If I had my way, I would pay for those repairs and upgrades and we would continue to be together, until my future children were ready for a car of their own.  They would get you, darling car that has taken such good care of me.

But it simply isn’t so.

You’ll have a good home with Neela.  She’s responsible (by 17-year old standards) and will take good care of you.  We’ll still see each other.  It’s not goodbye…well, it is.  But we’ll always have the memories.  And this blog post.  And I’ll snag some souviner from you.

To Bertha–my car, and my companion.  It’s been a helluva ride.  The next car has a lot to live up to.

Bertha Palepu. 1999-2010. More than a car...truly family.

If you knew Bertha, please post a memory in the comments below.  If you are going to mock my love for my car…then don’t post anything.

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