That rotten smart-ass might be on to something because I am feeling a sense of relief akin to the first time I ever went to confession, (at which time I earnestly confessed I had sworn in a foreign language for no reason other than shock value and I hadn't been nice to my sister).
My Audi is gone.
I explained to my niece that it was like having a unicorn for a pet. You got it because you read all kinds of stories about how wonderful it is to have a unicorn as a pet. It was exotic. You would look successful... after all, they're so hard to find, they must be expensive...
But they're not expensive even if they are rare. You spend your top dollar on the first unicorn that comes along, hoping that some of the distant grumblings you've been hearing about how difficult and expensive unicorn ownership is prove to be overstated.
It turns out unicorns make terrible pet. They eats voraciously, makes noise ALL the time... there is no quiet moment. It never saunters or loiters, each move is purposeful like Solid Gold dancer. Wonderful, but exhausting.
And dammit, even though you take great care of it, keep it clean, buy it the best straw for its bed, it still breaks a leg almost every month, meaning your bill with the vet is getting steadily more worrisome.
Life has become a constant endless cycle of caring for and feeding the unicorn. Sure, sometimes she takes you for a wonderful ride, but you have to spend a lot of time mucking the stalls before you get there.
The unicorn won't even take you to work reliably and one time even just stopped flying halfway home from a long way away and refused to take off again, in spite of her doctor pronouncing her in fine fancy with no concerns nary a day before.
As a toy, a conversation starter, a mere bauble, unicorns are great, but as everyday pets, they fail to be practical, reliable or in the end even particularly enjoyable. Can't use too much magic because that flying horse with sparkles coming out of its ass breaks all too easily.
I guess you get the point.
On to the next person then, a young man beguiled by her looks and called in like sailors to the Sirens' songs of her sonorous exhaust. Few mortals can resist. Certainly I couldn't. But enough time on the rocks will make you really think about whether those Sirens are worth sticking around for.
In the endless hall that contains my memories of all the cars I've owned, she's up there near the top for shear presence, and for the shear joy I am feeling on the day of her departure.
Onto smaller and more efficient things, then. A practical little runabout suited perfectly for today's reality of a short commute and a lot of city driving. Cheap and cheerful with a bright demeanor and a desire to please. Kinda like the cute girl who works for your dentist. You just look forward to seeing her.
The order is in... Thursday is the day. Care to guess what, (not you mom... you already know)?
