Anticipatory grief...

[ar_wahan]

... over saying goodbye to my old, 1993 Toyota wagon (the red image behind my cat Fancy in my default icon)! Bizarre! I am feeling really sad about it. Because of scheduling conflicts, I won't be getting the Prius until Thursday, so I have time to clean it up and vacuum it out (I have my pride, you know) before taking it to the dealership to trade in. The car has served me very well and even though it has rust, it's cosmetic at this point, since I had a lot of body work done on it over the past few years to replace the structural rust and pass inspection. It should have a lot of life left in it, even at 180,000 miles.

The dealership told me it probably wouldn't end up as "parts" (they'll sell it at auction), but might give some college kid a way to get back and forth to campus. That would make me feel better.

Not helping matters is that my samurai says she thinks cars can acquire a personality/quasi-soul over time. She even said once that she didn't think my car particularly liked her, although she said it did like me.... of course, part of this was her bid to *not* inherit this car when the Prius comes (she wants a car, but doesn't want to drive a stick; when I tried to teach her with my car, it was a miserable experience.). But that wasn't all of it.

Does anyone else think machines can develop souls or spirits?

I know a lot of people give their cars names. I never have -- the closest was calling it "baby car" at one point. But I do reflexively pat the dashboard (as I'd pat the shoulder of a horse) when I occasionally grind the gears or when it makes it up a steep hill in snow or ice!

I am also feeling bad about chopping up/digging out a daphne bush. It took a direct hit from a sheet of ice that slid off the roof two years ago, and was essentially smashed in the middle and split in two. But it lived... ugly in shape, but alive. Some of it died off, and a lot of the wood looked diseased. I reluctantly decided to replace it. I did talk to it a few days ago to thank it and let it know my intent, so its spirit could leave ahead of time (if that sounds bizarre, I was taught to do this years ago; it's not my own idea). I started in on it yesterday afternoon with a bow saw. I felt like a butcher. 

So, my quirkiness rating is *only* 34%? (See previously entry.)

Comments

[windsparrow.livejournal.com]

I think cars can develop spirits: They sometimes tell me their names the way my cats have done. Cars develop them much more quickly than houses do. Odd that. I've never been in a house less than a couple decades old that felt like anything except "new", and I've had 4 yr old cars tell me their names.

[ar-wahan.livejournal.com]

Just since posting this, I've had a call back from the American Lung Association. I'm going to donate the car to them, instead of trading it in.

[windsparrow.livejournal.com]

That sounds lovely.

[lurkitty.livejournal.com]

Yay for donating to the ALA! I am a lifelong asthmatic. I like people who support lungs.

I think machines support entities with spirits. They are homes for that which inhabits them, if that makes sense. My silver grey Prius is Graymalken (grimmulkken?), and I think she is happy staying with me rather than the warthog.

All of my music machines -- CD player, computer, iPod, etc, have their own gnomes that select music in a uncanny way.
Life will win.

[teal-cuttlefish.livejournal.com]

My Saturn was always just "the Saturn." I seldom referred to it as a being, and it had a lot of mechanical issues. Part of that was our fault, part the makeup of the car; it wasn't engineered to what I needed it to do.

I had a little red Toyota pickup before the Saturn; his name was Spot. I intended to drive him right into the ground, although having a baby made using him a bit more complicated. Spot was totaled when I was rear-ended at a light, and we took the generous settlement and used it to put a down payment on the Saturn.

With my disability changing my needs, I needed something bigger than the Saturn; basically, with the wheelchair, it was a two-person car again. So we bought me a 1996 Ford Explorer. It promptly informed me its name was George, and insists all the various wheelchairs I've had are named Martha. When I get an electric wheelchair, I suspect it will insist on it's own name.

On a slight tangent, the house toilet is named "You Piece of Shit!" I think it takes malicious pleasure in clogging on me. It's also 55 years old.

[kendokamel.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure about a quasi-soul, but I know my little Saturn has quite the personality! I got it (used) in graduate school, and didn't really have any vibes to it... but we've been many, many places, together, and it's been the one constant in my life over the past eight years.

It doesn't have a name... I've always called it, "Car". I cheer it on when it gets through traffic("Yay, car!"), and encourage it when I make it do things like... drive up the Eastern Continental Divide, and apologize when I drive over potholes and such. I even had a little celebration for its Car-Mitzvah (the official rolling of the odometer to 100,000)!

Sure, I may anthropomorphize it, but it's my first love- er, I mean, car. Even if it doesn't have its own "soul", it's picked up enough of mine to make it a good match. (:

[ar-wahan.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I apologize for potholes too! Welcome aboard to *you* on my sometimes dull, sometimes weird ride!

[kendokamel.livejournal.com]

Well, thanks!