CRUSHed

I have some very sad news to report.

My first car, Isabelle -- my much-loved, white-and-black 1984 Volkswagon Rabbit convertible -- is no longer in my life.

Yesterday, I voluntarily retired my baby. It was terrible. She failed smog, and I thought that the price I'd ultimately get for her would be too low to justify putting money into getting her to pass smog. My mom found this voluntary retirement program, and I didn't read the fine print. It just sounded like a good deal... I'd get a decent amount of money for the car, and her parts could be salvaged to help out other beautiful little V-dubs in need.

Well, although I took her to a "Pick-n-Pull" lot, it turns out they were NOT going to sell her parts. When I got there, they wrote "CRUSH" all over poor Isabelle in blue grease pen. I was shocked. I didn't realize it was THAT kind of goodbye. I tried to smile and act like it wasn't bothering me (a pick-n-pull lot isn't the most sympathetic environment) but I was traumatized.

I went inside to finish the paperwork. Afterwards, I was going to say goodbye one more time, but when I got outside, Isabelle was gone. They'd already taken her away somewhere. It couldn't have been more than five minutes.

I'm sorry, Izzy. =(