Dear Dani: I miss you, I'm sorry, I miss you, I'm so sorry. Why couldn't I go with you?

     I have been refusing to make this post since it happened. 

      

    The family joke from the day I got Dani is that if she went, I went. I would die when she did. And I poured everything I had into making sure she did not. I poured everything I had into that car. The joke was that I would stop paying for repairs when she needed an engine rebuild, and even then, probably not. I'd probably rebuild it. We traded suffering. She drove me when I needed to cry and scream at night, and I suffered sweat and financial costs when she had some issue on the way to the beach.

    I was so, so, so stupidly in love with that car. My pride and joy.

    Notice the past tense? Tell me you see where this is going, because I want to cry writing this without even saying the words.

    I always thought if Dani were to leave me, it would be in the kind way. One final wheeze to the beach and back, and I could let her go.

    I did not think it would be violent and cruel. I did not think I'd stare numbly on the shoulder of a highway at my beautiful car leaking coolant, shards of her headlights glittering in the sun, and wish I could grab one and slash myself to shreds.

    I really, really wanted to. It seemed unfair that she was so hurt and I was fine. It continues to be unfair. I will never understand.

    It was one of my safest driving moments. Stop and go traffic on the 215, shortly before the Decatur exit. I'd picked a song already and my phone was in the passenger seat. Safest.

    I put my blinker on-- see? Safest-- and went to merge. The car behind me on the lane I was going to sped up. I swerved to avoid it, and slammed on my brakes at the same time.

    It was stop and go. The car in front of me had stopped. My car was going. All the braking in the world wouldn't have saved her. I hit the steering wheel. She started smoking.

    My foot was on the brake because every time I let go, she went backwards. Smoke was coming out of the front. I was shaking. I was scared. My baby.

    The other person came out and got me out, helped me slowly lean her against a guardrail, and surveyed the damage with me. His car was structurally fine.

    I hit Dani at such an angle that structurally she was not. Her headlight was shattered. Coolant was broken. Radiator busted. It was a list of diagnoses as long as the ones I've gotten over the years.

    I wanted to kneel and cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pretend this was a horrible dream. 

    I was numb. I wanted to grab her headlight and slash myself. What's the difference? The one thing I'd had to get me through that time, the one thing, was gone. What did it matter if I went backwards? Who was going to get me through it? Did it matter anymore?

    The hardest thing to comprehend was how okay I was, compared to her. I'd be told later that her airbags didn't deploy because of the angle-- I guess older cars were designed to only deploy airbags if the force was in certain spots, and newer cars are designed to deploy at any force-- but if they had, my sunglasses would've shattered and hit my eyes.

    Another case of her saving me. I had one bruise. One. It faded in a matter of days. 

    They brought her to a salvage yard. I had time to decide. Blood money, or my baby. Nick and I went. I took photos of her and showed them to my mechanics the next day.

    They were so optimistic. They could fix her, as long as there was no frame damage. So optimistic, until I scrolled a little farther in my photos, and I watched Alex's face fall.

    It was then that I knew.

    I started bawling in that mechanic's shop. I couldn't help it. If they had no hope, and they'd spent years keeping her in shape, then there was no point. Her frame was damaged in three parts. It would be thousands to realign, and then thousands more to fix. There was no point.

    I killed my best friend. I think that is the thing I repeated most in those days. And when I'm drunk, I say it again. I killed my best friend.

    When I was in the hospital, they asked me to paint what I loved, what made me happy. I painted her. Two exterior colors and a night sky. Dani.

    Dani, you knew I ruined everything I loved. Did you know that, and love me back anyway? Love these hands that held your steering wheel with such love, passed over credit cards (plural) to fix you?

   Alex told me that, funnily enough, I'd hit at the very strongest part of the frame. If I hadn't, he said, any other angle would've crushed me. A little to the left, and the entire center would've crumpled, and crushed me between it and the seat. A little to the right, and the entire driver's side would've been destroyed. I would've been killed too.

    Dear Dani, wasn't the plan to go with you? We always split 50/50. Inconveniences, hurts, mistakes, it was all ours to share. Wasn't the plan to go with you?

    I hate her for abandoning me when I need her more than ever. I hate her. I fucking hate her for leaving me.

    I love her.

    I had to get another car. I only wanted a Mazda.

    I got a newer Mazda. 

    Now I have a car payment, which I never wanted; a car that weighs more, which makes the "gas efficiency" moot; a car that makes noise for everything, which is so fucking stupid. I am drowning in lack of money. The new car is very pretty. People call her beautiful to her face. She doesn't make noise when she idles. She doesn't vibrate incessantly.

    She doesn't do anything I love. I love that ugly, awkward, boxy car to death. To mine, apparently, since she just left me alone.

    I wake up and the room feels small. I wake up and remember all the bills I have to pay. The car payment. Rent, since I just moved out.

    It's vastly unfair that I moved out and Dani didn't even get to see it. Her last drive was to my new place. I was driving back to the house to change when it happened. What's crazy is I had such strong feelings not to go, to get off at five different exits. Pushed past it, and now this.

    I wake up, the room feels small, the world feels small, I feel like I'm drowning and no one taught me how to swim.

    I can't help but feel like my world crashed when Dani did.

    I know this sounds so nuts. Who mourns a car? But she was the first thing I bought, all my own. I poured everything I had into her. Where does the love go when that is gone? Where does it all go?

    Dear Dani: riddle me this, you selfish abandoner. Where does my love go?

    Dear Dani: As soon as I have no debt, I will buy another Protege. They'll never be you, but maybe they'll make me feel like you did.

    Dear Dani: We were supposed to go together. You're selfish for choosing me instead.

    Dear Dani: my world crashed when you did. I feel like if I put you back together, I could get back on track.

    Dear Dani: I took the blood money. Progressive will scrap you for parts. Might as well take mine too.

    Dear Dani: I hope you're racing in the sky. 130mph, wind at your spoiler, engine revving, and it's like the last 230k miles never happened, but the 30k with me did. I hope Hits Different by Taylor Swift is blasting, and you're weaving between cars like brand new.

    Dear everyone reading this: I loved that car so much for so long. When I get drunk, she is what I will mourn.