I really don’t like to disappoint anyone so it’s only logical that after a week of first sentences, first chapters and middles, logically I should write today, the last weekday, about endings. So thank you fellow Working Stiffs for helping to lead me into today’s post. When I decided Monday afternoon what I was going to blog about today, I didn’t know then that you were going to set me up so nicely. However I’m going to talk about a different type of ending.
Monday morning my daughter and I took Hubert (my daughter’s moniker for her car), a ’94 Ford Escort to the local scrap yard, his final resting place. I had no idea until I started cleaning out the car on Sunday afternoon, how attached I was to this car. Admittedly the fact that it’s a 1994 and it’s now 2010, should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t. For the sake of full disclosure, I had only owned the car since August of 2003 when I purchased it for $1,000 for my then fifteen year old daughter. At that time, I asked my father (a car expert, IMHO) if he would help me find a used, reliable vehicle for my daughter, and oh yeah, the catch was that I only had $1,000 to spend on it. When he asked for further details such as color, etc., I told him that I didn’t care at all about the color, just wanted it to be reliable and again, $1,000 or less. But since he mentioned it, I guess I wasn’t all that keen on the color aqua for a car, but any other color would do.
So when he called and said he found a good car for the price but that it just might be the aqua color I didn’t like, I wasn’t surprised, my karma wasn’t all that great back then.
Let’s face it, as a 1994 Ford Escort station wagon it really wasn’t going to be the “cool car” on the block anyhow so I decided to buy it regardless of the color (my apologies to anyone who owns an aqua car, and by the way, the color did grow on us).
That was the beginning. The middle was filled with many trips to and from the local high school, multiple volleyball practices, games, and tournaments, and soon after college. And now there we were, at the end. How did time pass so quickly?
As I drove Hubert through the scrap yard filled with old pipes, cars, dust, glass, and basically junk, I thought back to the beginning and middle, and at the same time was looking forward to the future, but not the end. I guess it’s bittersweet.
However, despite the emotion of the moment, I admittedly, as a mystery writer, couldn’t help but think, “Wouldn’t it make a great story if I tripped over a body back here?”