Ode to General Mo'

The General is gone. She had come so far. 4,000+ miles, and now she is probably scared and lonely sitting in a lot somewhere, or being transferred to a lot somewhere. Waiting to find a new owner. Or, several new owners if they take her for parts. I shudder at the thought. What a tragedy that would be.

I have had General Odyssea Trafalgar Mosby for years. Almost 4, I think. But how can you measure time spent so well together? We had always gotten along, and I knew (read: hoped to whatever pagan Gods I may or may not believe in) that she would deliver me safely to the opposite coast.

She not only succeeded in her mission, but she did it without complaint in the face of snow, mud, rain, sleet, sand, hail, sunshine, darkness, and van-loads of illegal Mexicans.

She may not have been much of a looker--missing a hubcap and a bumper panel, paint kind of peeling, driver door dented--but, by golly, did she have heart. She never buckled when we would be passing sleepy truckers in a blizzard. She never let a little sand mess up her day, or a blizzard 10 minutes later catch her with her panties down, or allow my neglect when it came to oil changes ruin her plans. She flaunted what she had and never slowed down...except when there was a hill involved. She saw probably more sights than we did on this trip.

Look at her hiding back there.

So, here's to you, General Kirkenmeyer Stanlietta Mosby. May you get everything you've ever wanted out of life. Drink the Premium octane. May the wind always be at your back, streaming past it as you fly down the highway toward your latest adventure. You adventurous girl, you.

I think a tear escaped my eye when I waved goodbye to her.