Goodbye, sweet girl!

So, my buddy, who's been with me for the past (nearly) eleven years of my life, died this past Friday.

I'm talking about my Honda Civic.  She lived a good life and had 365,000 miles on her, but I'm still quite sad to be without her.

She had been through a lot with me.

Ice storms:

Burglaries (pictured below is what used to be a CD player):

Accidents:

And several moves (pictured below is the time I packed her full of everything I owned and moved to Norfolk, Virginia without knowing a soul):

My account of her last days:
I was set to perform in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania this past weekend.  On my way to the gig, about an hour outside of town (while still in rural Pennsylvania), my gas light went on.

"Strange," I thought as the gas level still showed there was plenty of fuel.  Not wanting to take chances, I pulled over to get gas anyway.  When I tried to start the car back up, I noticed it was quite difficult and it sounded like it was about to stall.  

I thought nothing of it as my car frequently pulled the "I'm about to stall" bit, and I always assumed it was bluffing.

I pulled over a few minutes later to use the restroom, and again, my car was extremely hard to start.

Ten minutes later, while on the highway, my car stopped being able to accelerate at all.  I pulled onto the shoulder and attempted to start it again.

Nothing.

Uh oh.

I tried again and again to no avail.

At that point, I attempted to call Triple A.  Before we even finished exchanging pleasantries, my iPhone died.

This is where I fought back tears.

Normally, I would have just put my flashers on, looked pathetic and tried to get someone to stop.  But, you see, my flashers were damaged permanently in the above burglary.  So my car was so broken, I couldn't even indicate it was broken. 

Luckily, I had my laptop in my suitcase, so I plugged my phone into that to try to get enough of a charge to call Triple A back.

Twenty minutes later, I was on the phone with them.

The answer I got: "we can't even find where you are on the map."

At this point, I started to freak out since I had a show that night, which I had to make.  Triple A refused to pick my car up unless I was there, and they informed me that if I abandon my car, the impound fees will be outrageous.  In fact, the Triple A rep even used the phrase "more than the car is worth."  Although, given my car, that amount could only be $73.00.

Triple A finally figured out where I was located and agreed to send a truck. 

So I called the club, and the house MC (who was super nice) agreed to come get me within the hour.  I prayed that Triple A would show up in that amount of time so I wouldn't have to leave the vehicle.

After waiting for half an hour or so, I became so frustrated, that I decided to try to turn the car on again.

To my amazement, it came back on!  But, I quickly noticed it was overheating whenever I would accelerate.

Let us remember that I was in rural Pennsylvania, so I had no idea when/where the next exit would be.  But, I decided to take my chances.

I remembered a little trick my good friend, Keith Lenart, taught me when his van broke down in Arkansas.  If you turn the car on, gun it to get some speed, and then pop it into neutral, you can usually ride the momentum without the car overheating.  So I did that for six miles until I finally made it to an exit and coasted into a grocery store parking lot.

Phew.

Soon after I made it to the parking lot, Max, the MC showed up, we packed his car full of my car's crap (which was a lot) and we drove to the show.  There was no time to go to the hotel, so I'm sure I looked like the wrath of God onstage.

The next day, I was informed no mechanics in the area were open (since it was the weekend).  The only place I could find was a junkyard that agreed to tow her and give me a couple hundred bucks for parts.

Thankfully, the headliner I was working with (the hilarious Steve Iott) happened to be from Michigan, too.  So I was able to ditch my car in Pennsylvania and hitch a ride back home with him.

It was quite the stressful weekend, but ended as well as I think it could have.
 
So my girl's final resting place will be in a junkyard in Duncannon, Pennsylvania (a town that's just as small as it sounds).  Not exactly what I wanted for her (I was hoping to at least spread her ashes in a Taco Bell parking lot, since that's one of the places we went to most), but I find comfort in knowing that she had a long, productive life.

Rest In Peace, my loyal friend.