[Rosie, my car, after Rosie the Riveter, my sweet sweet little 2001 Mitsubishi Galant]
I think we all hold close to our hearts, those things or people that stick around over time. Our boyfriends, our girlfriends, our dogs, our cats. Our constants are our anchors. They stick with us through the years, through the ups and downs. They stay the same as our lives change and change.
Rosie has been my constant, as silly as it sounds. Over the last 4 years, this girl has seen me through 3 cross country journeys, 28 states, countless heartbreaks, and a number of so-so jobs.
She has endured off roading in the Rocky Mountains, pin-head turns down to canyon bottoms in Utah, and miraculously gotten me from NY to Seattle with a broken timing belt. She has gotten my broke-ass back to Iowa though snowstorms in Minnesota in the dead of winter, driving 35mph in the worst of conditions.
She's endured robbery in Brooklyn, mice infestations during country life, she's had rats chew through her wires, but she has never let me down. Not once. Not ever. Even with her stereo gone and a new one jimmied in in its place.
AND maybe most importantly, she has carried my shit. My heavy-ass shit, back and fourth across this country. This unlikely vehicle has been my workhorse. She is not the car meant for a woodworker, but somehow she has managed 50,000 miles, with my tools and god knows what else packed in the trunk, through city life, endless high ways, and mountain roads.
Today, for the first time she broke down on me while driving - heading up hill on a scenic highway in Lolo national forrest about 60 miles west of Missoula. A scary moment for sure, but less because of my safety, and more because I thought it might be the end of our time together. Soon I know it will be because I can't go much longer being a proper woodworker without a truck, but man, the fear of losing my constant was real.
Turns out she will likely live to drive another day, and at least get me 500 more miles to Portland, but, here's to our constants that see us though our best days and our loneliest hours.
Today I feel nothing but lucky. Lucky for cell phone service when you need it. Lucky for good mechanics. Lucky for shitty motels. Lucky for roadside casino/bar/restaurants. Lucky for the buzz from a few good beers. And lucky that life is pretty damn good even when shit like this happens.
Airstream trailer count: 13
Bird sightings: 2 Osprey, 1 Hummingbird