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Poor Daddy Car
So on Saturday the 27th we had to junk the Honda. Sebastian didn't really understand what was going on, but his heart was broken anyway; for some reason he's always loved that car. Since the second cylinder went it has just been sitting out on the street, but he would often look out at it through the window and talk about it.
I'd tell him that it was broken, and he'd say "Daddy, fix!". "Can't fix!" I'd answer, which confused him. I guess he doesn't yet realize that there are things that I can't do.
When we'd go for a drive he usually asked for Daddy Car; he hated the Neon, which he called "Mommy Car" ("No like Mommy Car!"). He seems to be okay with the new van, by the way.
As I wrote before, the car was rammed on Wednesday. The cops noticed that the registration was expired, so we had it towed to the salvage lot on Saturday before the cops could get around to towing it themselves. Before the tow truck arrived, though, I took a few last pictures:
Here it is sitting on the street opposite our house, right where it was rammed. If you look carefully you can see that the back bumper is detached somewhat from the body.
A closeup of that bumper. Kind of a waste of time, since I didn't press charges.
The back of the car. That's our front yard fence in the background. The gray curved line in the back window is the interior trimming; it started falling off a while ago. I kept sticking it back in place, but it wouldn't stay.
All in all it was a good car. I'm kind of silly about inanimate things sometimes; if something has served me well I actually grieve a bit if it is damaged or destroyed. Sebastian seems to feel the same way. He sobbed and sobbed all the way to the junkyard, as we followed the tow truck: "Poor Daddy Car!"
When we got home at first he insisted that Daddy Car was still there, but when he went out front he couldn't find it and got sad. Teri told him that the car had a boo-boo and needed to be fixed, but that maybe it couldn't be fixed. That kind of went over his head. Since then he still asks about the car sometimes when he looks out the window.
I wish I'd taken a photo of him inside the car. Oh well.
Bye bye, Daddy Car.
I'd tell him that it was broken, and he'd say "Daddy, fix!". "Can't fix!" I'd answer, which confused him. I guess he doesn't yet realize that there are things that I can't do.
When we'd go for a drive he usually asked for Daddy Car; he hated the Neon, which he called "Mommy Car" ("No like Mommy Car!"). He seems to be okay with the new van, by the way.
As I wrote before, the car was rammed on Wednesday. The cops noticed that the registration was expired, so we had it towed to the salvage lot on Saturday before the cops could get around to towing it themselves. Before the tow truck arrived, though, I took a few last pictures:
Here it is sitting on the street opposite our house, right where it was rammed. If you look carefully you can see that the back bumper is detached somewhat from the body.
A closeup of that bumper. Kind of a waste of time, since I didn't press charges.
The back of the car. That's our front yard fence in the background. The gray curved line in the back window is the interior trimming; it started falling off a while ago. I kept sticking it back in place, but it wouldn't stay.
All in all it was a good car. I'm kind of silly about inanimate things sometimes; if something has served me well I actually grieve a bit if it is damaged or destroyed. Sebastian seems to feel the same way. He sobbed and sobbed all the way to the junkyard, as we followed the tow truck: "Poor Daddy Car!"
When we got home at first he insisted that Daddy Car was still there, but when he went out front he couldn't find it and got sad. Teri told him that the car had a boo-boo and needed to be fixed, but that maybe it couldn't be fixed. That kind of went over his head. Since then he still asks about the car sometimes when he looks out the window.
I wish I'd taken a photo of him inside the car. Oh well.
Bye bye, Daddy Car.