The passing of an old friend

The cause of death was ruled, dismissively, as "old age." But anyone who saw the puddle of dark liquid pooling under the body would have known otherwise.

Sure, she was no spring chicken, but without the fatal blow she sustained, she could have rolled right along for who knows how many more years.

I sure do miss her now. Sure, she had gotten cranky in recent years. She had the ailments that come with a lot of mileage. She had creaky bones. She smelled bad. On her grumpiest days, she'd make strange sounds. Plus, the bills to take care of her were mounting all the time.

But she had been with me for so long, and I was always comfortable with her despite her flaws. She'd go anywhere with me. She took me on trips to the beach, and to more Duke basketball and football games than I can count. She even drove my wife and me home from the hospital after our first daughter was born, and again two years later when our second was born. We felt safe with her on those drives, knowing she'd help protect these miracles who had come into our lives. We would take her to the Anne Springs Close Greenway and she was great with having our two big Weimaraners come along with us, even when they'd come back wet and muddy.

There was nothing all that special about my 2000 Chevy Tahoe, I guess. She was just so familiar to me. I knew how to press her buttons. I was with her for years longer than any other. She was always there, ready to go, never demanding much.

I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I replaced her with another before she was even fully gone. This new one and I are still getting to know each other. But she's a lot like the recently departed, and I have a good feeling that we're going to grow old together.

-- Taylor Batten