Good Girl/Grey Ghost  Farewell- Photo: K. Weikel

Life After Death

Life after death? No, I’m not going to write about an experience I may have had that convinced me that life here on Earth does not end when our physical bodies stop working. And yes, I’ve had enough experiences – direct experiences – with people who no longer reside within a body to know this is not simply wishful thinking.

And no, I’m not going to write about what transpired today in our national political arena. Although if I’m honest, there were a handful of people who made remarkably powerful and courageous decisions and expressed themselves most eloquently in acting on those choices. I may write about them some other day, because their actions and words were inspiring and gave me hope that all is not lost in our country.

No, this post is dedicated to Good Girl a/k/a the Grey Ghost – my 2005 Prius. She of the Red Triangle of Death posts. I don’t even think I wrote about the fact that she had her odometer replaced after it got stuck at 299,999. I needed a new odometer installed in order to pass inspection last year!

Mourning

Yes, I know. Assigning anthropomorphic characteristics to ‘inanimate’ objects may seem ridiculous. But driving in a car every day for 15 years, having this vehicle be the common denominator of so many profound life experiences: commuting to Philadelphia (when I wasn’t taking my beloved Septa train!) when I worked at the Women’s Law Project, rendezvousing with son Karl at the Clinton bus station at all hours as he attended NYU and afterward, driving to and from the University of Chicago for another son’s educational adventures, trips to Penn State and Susquehanna University, going on vacation to Cape Cod, innumerable trips, near and far, to soccer games, musicals, and track meets, both high school and collegiate…these experiences leave a mark. We had a relationship.

Yes, Good Girl, a/k/a the Grey Ghost, has seen me through a ton of life experiences. I distinctly remember getting into her after receiving the call from my husband Karl telling me that our son had died. I remember sitting in her, beside the creek (my beloved Tohickon) innumerable times over the past 15 years – but I particularly recall the moment I sat in her, facing the Tohickon, and calling my niece, Ellen, to tell her Karl was gone. I don’t know why I remember that particular conversation, but it remains seared in my mind. Every time I pass the specific spot in which I parked, I recall that conversation.

I remember picking Karl up one time after a particularly hard time he’d had while in NYC. I could feel his misery as we crossed the bridge from Frenchtown, NJ into Pennsylvania. He loathed his predicament at that moment in time. I felt it then and I remember it distinctly now.

Honoring Her Time

More recently, I remember her freaking me out with the Red Triangle of Death midway on my journey as I drove the 12 hour trek from North Carolina to Pennsylvania. But even more amazingly, I remember her mysteriously refraining from blaring the RT of D after I asked her to just get me home that evening and not strand me 350 miles from nowhere.

My Grey Ghost, my trusty companion on so many journeys both physical and otherwise, started giving me signals upon entering 2020. I knew her ticks and groans. I could tell when things weren’t right. And a couple of times, recently, she hesitated. She caught her breath ever so slightly and I wondered if I’d have to pull over and give her Last Rites on the side of Route 611.

The service people at Thompson Toyota were gentle with both Grey Ghost and me, replenishing her fluids and giving her boosts of automotive energy cocktails that kept her going for just a little bit longer. Alas, her head gasket would cost too much to replace. It was only a matter of time. She was, in her own way, placed on her own form of hospice.

I listened to my Good Girl. I knew she didn’t want to strand me somewhere. I could feel her time was perilously close. Indeed, once I registered that feeling deep within my bones, I had to act upon it; I cleaned her out. All of my reusable grocery bags and the couple of blankets I had in the back in case of emergency were brought into the house. All the kitschy stuff I’d accumulated over the years and stuffed into the glove box or console compartment: cleaned out. I even removed the EZ Pass from its Velcro nest at the crest of my windshield.

Within a day, the perfect replacement manifested itself. You can’t make this stuff up.

Resurrection

Best of all, my Good Girl, my Grey Ghost – instead of giving up the ghost, will be given the unique opportunity to become bionic. To resurrect herself in a way almost no other vehicles ever get the chance to do.

It just so happens that our family’s trusted mechanic expressed a desire to have a Prius of his own to tinker with. He happened to mention this to Karl quite randomly (as if!) within days of my decision to replace Good Girl. Our mechanic is amazingly brilliant with cars. He wants to figure out how to make a regular Prius (which is a hybrid) an all-electric vehicle.

It was too great a resolution to pass up. My Grey Ghost would get a chance at resurrection, and we could give a guy whose kept so many of our vehicles running and on the road over the years a chance to indulge his curiosity and creativity. Win/win.

Not many cars, especially those with 312,856 miles on them, get to dodge the crusher and perhaps – just maybe – get a chance to become bionic. But my Good Girl, my Grey Ghost, just might live to see another day: gain life after death – resurrected.

(T-660)