To my dear and beloved Car,
I really need you to know one thing; I’m sorry. I know that this is too little, too late, but I just really need you to know that I still care.
I know we haven’t had the best relationship. I know that there were times when I was first learning to drive in you that made you uncomfortable; the sudden, jerky braking, that time I accidently put you into first gear down a steep hill making you work too hard and rev well into the red zone. I only did those things because I wanted to impress you and I know that you were a kind and forgiving car, in the beginning. You forgave my over eagerness with a gentle and nurturing soul.
Your kindness only makes my actions in following years more deplorable.
I know you were distraught when I reversed you into that telegraph pole, it was a mistake and I begged you for forgiveness. I could tell your pride was injured and your disfiguring wounds embarrassed you, but still you forgave.
I’m sorry that I did not make the effort to buy you nice new tires that gripped in the wet. This was one of my harsher errors, as it sent us both hurtling into the road barrier last winter. I had hurt you badly this time; you needed rest, to get away from my destructive behaviour.
I’m sorry that I was weak and that I cheated on you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t go two months without you and found comfort in the cabin of another. She was no good for me as you know but I’m sorry that I put you through it. Yet still you came back to me with the same devotion.
However I could tell that things would never be the same again.
The spark was no longer there. You were tired, defeated and worn out. You had developed a nasty cough. The cold didn’t agree with you and on those freezing spring mornings you could barely make it up the driveway. I’m so sorry that I did this you, Car. I’m so sorry that things have gone this way.
But why, Car?
Why did you have to do it?