Bye Bye Civic
Last month we sold my Civic. It was a 1991 Civic and I bought it in 1993, while I was living in Ottawa. I'd done my homework and knew exactly what I was looking for and what it should cost, and then I saw an ad in the paper that matched perfectly. It was the only car I even looked at. Buying that car was one of the few decisions in my life that I've never regretted for a moment.
But back in 1993, when I went to see it, I didn't want to be exploited for my gender, so I decided to bring a guy along to make it look like he knew what he was doing (lol). I didn't have any male friends around so I asked my sister Fiona to find me a guy. She
immediately said she knew just the right man - he loved haggling and negotiating and would love a caper like this. She called me back later to say that unfortunately Max couldn't make it, although he would have loved to do it, but her friend John could go instead.
I ended up going out with John for eight months and after Christmas we drove all the way down to Florida in my Civic to visit his folks. I still remember driving through the Adirondacks in the middle of the night in a blizzard, with the black road barely visible between huge snow-covered evergreen trees ... and then the next day, somewhere in Virginia, stepping out of the car to take off my winter coat and boots.
When I broke up with John in February 1994, my mom was dying of cancer and I used my Civic to drive back and forth to the hospital every day for a month and a half. Since I was the only one in town with a car, I used it to ferry all my siblings around as well. And then I used it to drive to the funeral and reception.
By the end of May 1994 I was seeing Max (who emailed me after my mom's funeral to say I should distract myself with plenty of movies and soon we were going to them together). That year, it was too painful to stay at home for Christmas so Max, Fiona and I drove the trusty Civic to NYC for the holidays. We stayed at a motel in Jersey and parked the car in a lot in Manhattan every day.
In October of 1995, Max moved to Montreal. The last day I saw him before he left, he took my car to work. I needed the car myself that night and when he brought it home late, it gave me something to be angry about, to cover up my sadness at his leaving.
In June 1996, I took a job with our regional office in Halifax. My work put me up in a hotel there but I drove out in my Civic. I went through Montreal, picked up Max, and he helped me drive the rest of the way out. Six months later, in November 1996, Max took the train to Halifax so he could drive back with me when I moved back to Ottawa.
In September 1997, Fiona took a job in Halifax and I agreed to move her out there. Unlike me, she had to bring everything she owned. We crammed everything into the little Civic, including her cat in a carrier, and tied her futon and a wicker armchair to the roof. We left late in the afternoon and it ended up taking us two days to get there. In the middle of the night, somewhere in rural Quebec, when we wanted to let her cat out for a minute, I backed into a ditch. I had to walk across a dark field to a farmhouse to call for a towtruck, then spend 45 minutes by the side of the road saying, "Non merci, j'ai déjà appelé un ... un ... tow truck" to all the well-meaning Quebeckers who stopped to help us.
In the summer of 1998, one of my brothers got married. The ceremony was at a little bed & breakfast in New Hampshire. I drove down there in my Civic with my other brother. Fiona, still in Halifax, took a ferry from Nova Scotia to Portland, Maine, where I had agreed to pick her up. I was late getting to the B&B and then even later getting to Portland - I finally arrived there 6 hours late, in the middle of the night. Fiona - who had been sitting by herself in the empty ferry station for hours - was just about to give up on me and take a cab to a motel. Fortunately I met her just as she was leaving.
In September 1999, I quit my job in Ottawa and moved to Toronto. I hired movers to take most of my things, but ended up cramming all the leftover bits and pieces - cat, plants, lamps - into my Civic. I gave my only key to my new apartment to the movers figuring they'd get there first - but unbeknownst to me were delayed for two hours. When I got to Toronto I assumed they were right behind me so I unloaded my car onto the sidewalk and waited. The movers didn't show up but all my neighbours did. By the time the movers arrived, practically the whole neighbourhood was sitting out on chairs on their lawns, front porches or sidewalks, checking out my stuff and talking to each other for the first time.
All my friends were still in Ottawa, so at first I drove back to visit at least every month. I still remember the blur of late nights on the 401 in my little Civic, singing along to the music on my cassettes to keep myself awake.
But after I'd been in Toronto for a while, I found I never used the car to get around town. I almost got rid of it, until I bought the house in 2001 and realized that you can't transport home renovation materials from the Home Depot on your bike.
Max and I drove to Worcester, Massachusetts to spend Christmas with my brother and his family in 2002 and 2003. I'd drive through Montreal, pick him up, and he'd share the rest of the driving with me.
In January of 2003, my room-mate Neil borrowed the Civic and drove out to Regina to visit our friend Dylan. It took him four days to drive there and he called us every night from some road stop in northern Ontario or southern Manitoba until he arrived. He stayed with Dylan for 2 or 3 months and while he was there, he used my car to teach Dylan to drive. (After he left, Dylan bought his own car.) Neil is in Taiwan now; when I told him I was getting rid of the Civic he emailed me and said, "Damn I wish I was in Canada at the moment. I would have taken it off your hands and drove it all over Canada."
Max moved into my house in May 2004 and the Civic never looked quite the same after that. :-) His mom had already offered to give him her car, but the Civic just wouldn't quit.
One cold night in January 2005, Max flew back to Toronto from Ottawa. When he went to pick up the Civic in the airport parking lot, it wouldn't start. (Was it because the battery was low, or because he left the lights on? I forget.) He called me, since the CAA card is in my name, and I called CAA for him. While I was waiting to hear that the towtruck had reached him, I thought I felt a "leaky" sensation. But it seemed to go away. Max finally got home around midnight and we went to bed. Two hours later I woke up, this time *knowing* something was going on. We called the midwife and then climbed into the trusty Civic for the drive to the hospital.
Ten days later -- after Max stood on Roncesvalles Ave. accosting women with strollers and asking them if they new how to install a baby car seat -- we drove Dashiell home in the Civic.
So as you can see, that car has shared a lot of the important moments in my life. I was sad to see it go.
But back in 1993, when I went to see it, I didn't want to be exploited for my gender, so I decided to bring a guy along to make it look like he knew what he was doing (lol). I didn't have any male friends around so I asked my sister Fiona to find me a guy. She
immediately said she knew just the right man - he loved haggling and negotiating and would love a caper like this. She called me back later to say that unfortunately Max couldn't make it, although he would have loved to do it, but her friend John could go instead.
I ended up going out with John for eight months and after Christmas we drove all the way down to Florida in my Civic to visit his folks. I still remember driving through the Adirondacks in the middle of the night in a blizzard, with the black road barely visible between huge snow-covered evergreen trees ... and then the next day, somewhere in Virginia, stepping out of the car to take off my winter coat and boots.
When I broke up with John in February 1994, my mom was dying of cancer and I used my Civic to drive back and forth to the hospital every day for a month and a half. Since I was the only one in town with a car, I used it to ferry all my siblings around as well. And then I used it to drive to the funeral and reception.
By the end of May 1994 I was seeing Max (who emailed me after my mom's funeral to say I should distract myself with plenty of movies and soon we were going to them together). That year, it was too painful to stay at home for Christmas so Max, Fiona and I drove the trusty Civic to NYC for the holidays. We stayed at a motel in Jersey and parked the car in a lot in Manhattan every day.
In October of 1995, Max moved to Montreal. The last day I saw him before he left, he took my car to work. I needed the car myself that night and when he brought it home late, it gave me something to be angry about, to cover up my sadness at his leaving.
In June 1996, I took a job with our regional office in Halifax. My work put me up in a hotel there but I drove out in my Civic. I went through Montreal, picked up Max, and he helped me drive the rest of the way out. Six months later, in November 1996, Max took the train to Halifax so he could drive back with me when I moved back to Ottawa.
In September 1997, Fiona took a job in Halifax and I agreed to move her out there. Unlike me, she had to bring everything she owned. We crammed everything into the little Civic, including her cat in a carrier, and tied her futon and a wicker armchair to the roof. We left late in the afternoon and it ended up taking us two days to get there. In the middle of the night, somewhere in rural Quebec, when we wanted to let her cat out for a minute, I backed into a ditch. I had to walk across a dark field to a farmhouse to call for a towtruck, then spend 45 minutes by the side of the road saying, "Non merci, j'ai déjà appelé un ... un ... tow truck" to all the well-meaning Quebeckers who stopped to help us.
In the summer of 1998, one of my brothers got married. The ceremony was at a little bed & breakfast in New Hampshire. I drove down there in my Civic with my other brother. Fiona, still in Halifax, took a ferry from Nova Scotia to Portland, Maine, where I had agreed to pick her up. I was late getting to the B&B and then even later getting to Portland - I finally arrived there 6 hours late, in the middle of the night. Fiona - who had been sitting by herself in the empty ferry station for hours - was just about to give up on me and take a cab to a motel. Fortunately I met her just as she was leaving.
In September 1999, I quit my job in Ottawa and moved to Toronto. I hired movers to take most of my things, but ended up cramming all the leftover bits and pieces - cat, plants, lamps - into my Civic. I gave my only key to my new apartment to the movers figuring they'd get there first - but unbeknownst to me were delayed for two hours. When I got to Toronto I assumed they were right behind me so I unloaded my car onto the sidewalk and waited. The movers didn't show up but all my neighbours did. By the time the movers arrived, practically the whole neighbourhood was sitting out on chairs on their lawns, front porches or sidewalks, checking out my stuff and talking to each other for the first time.
All my friends were still in Ottawa, so at first I drove back to visit at least every month. I still remember the blur of late nights on the 401 in my little Civic, singing along to the music on my cassettes to keep myself awake.
But after I'd been in Toronto for a while, I found I never used the car to get around town. I almost got rid of it, until I bought the house in 2001 and realized that you can't transport home renovation materials from the Home Depot on your bike.
Max and I drove to Worcester, Massachusetts to spend Christmas with my brother and his family in 2002 and 2003. I'd drive through Montreal, pick him up, and he'd share the rest of the driving with me.
In January of 2003, my room-mate Neil borrowed the Civic and drove out to Regina to visit our friend Dylan. It took him four days to drive there and he called us every night from some road stop in northern Ontario or southern Manitoba until he arrived. He stayed with Dylan for 2 or 3 months and while he was there, he used my car to teach Dylan to drive. (After he left, Dylan bought his own car.) Neil is in Taiwan now; when I told him I was getting rid of the Civic he emailed me and said, "Damn I wish I was in Canada at the moment. I would have taken it off your hands and drove it all over Canada."
Max moved into my house in May 2004 and the Civic never looked quite the same after that. :-) His mom had already offered to give him her car, but the Civic just wouldn't quit.
One cold night in January 2005, Max flew back to Toronto from Ottawa. When he went to pick up the Civic in the airport parking lot, it wouldn't start. (Was it because the battery was low, or because he left the lights on? I forget.) He called me, since the CAA card is in my name, and I called CAA for him. While I was waiting to hear that the towtruck had reached him, I thought I felt a "leaky" sensation. But it seemed to go away. Max finally got home around midnight and we went to bed. Two hours later I woke up, this time *knowing* something was going on. We called the midwife and then climbed into the trusty Civic for the drive to the hospital.
Ten days later -- after Max stood on Roncesvalles Ave. accosting women with strollers and asking them if they new how to install a baby car seat -- we drove Dashiell home in the Civic.
So as you can see, that car has shared a lot of the important moments in my life. I was sad to see it go.