Car memories...

Sorry, this is a long post. Feel free not to read it....

Our poor little camry has reached his last legs. It makes me sad. I’ve had this car for, what 7 years?

Let’s reflect a little.

I remember seeing that beautiful big pink bow on the hood when I graduated from high school. He was my very generous present from my parents for getting a 4.0 GPA through high school. The first thing I did: put a blue furry steering wheel cover on it. I named him Jack. The license plate was 909 DRJ, so his full name was Dr. Jack.

Then to BYU I went. I was the only freshman with a car, so trusty Dr. Jack and I went to the airport many a times to drop off and pick up friends, friends of friends, or random strangers that knew I had a car. We also did plenty Del Taco runs at 2am with my girlfriends.

I got lost the first time I tried to drive home for a friend’s (Ryan) mission farewell. I accidentally drove to Colorado. Made a 10-hour drive a 16-hour drive. I wish I could have recorded that phone call to Dave, my bro-in-law:
Collect call
Dave: Cassie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?
Me: Dave? I’m… I’m in Colorado. (Crying, of course) Can you get me directions back to AZ?
Dave: (Probably trying to suppress his laughter) Give me the number of the pay phone and I’ll call you back.
Me: Thanks.

I remember an almost fatal car situation: coming home for Christmas, going through snowy Flagstaff when I had never driven in snow. I was passing a semi who started veering into my lane. I slammed on the breaks, which made me skid, which made Jack do a 180 and skid onto the shoulder, now facing oncoming traffic. We were on the shoulder, so we were safe. It’s almost as if Jack was saying, “It’s okay. I got ya.” J
My mom was NOT happy about hearing this story.

Then I had to get a Utah license plate. I was sooo bugged about that. It reads 883 WMJ. He then turned into “Women’s man Jack.”

I came home for the summer, and stayed with my sister Rebecca. LOVED it. You’re awesome, Rebecca. I remember planning to go back to BYU a certain day, I packed my car, and then decided to stay another day. When I went to my car the next day, my piano keyboard had melted in the AZ summer heat. No, it wasn’t fixable. All the keys had melted together.

Sophomore year. Still drove a lot. TONS of 10 hour trips home. My car was broken into that year. When I went to get into my car, I felt like I stumbled onto a murder scene. It truly was traumatizing to see my back window broken and my stereo wires all over the place. It would be $400 bucks to get everything fixed. I didn’t have said money, so I put a piece of cardboard over my window and sang to myself.
My sister Rebecca flew to UT that summer to visit for some reason I can’t think of. She needed to use Jack for her visit, and I went to California for our family vacation. (She would be a couple days late.) She got to Cali, said she needed to get my keys back to me, and when she gave me my keys back, she gave me the faceplate of the stereo she just had installed in my car. All she said was, “Happy late birthday.” She said the window was fixed too. I cried. Like I said, you’re awesome, Rebecca.

Junior year: Started dating Brandon this year. He always drove his car on dates, which is funny now that I think of it because someone had hit him in an accident and you could barely open the doors to get in.
Just a few weeks before we got married, we drove to Lake Powell to have fun in the lake. We stupidly drove right onto the beach. How does a 2-wheel-drive car get out of the sandy beach and back up to the road, you ask? It doesn’t, unless you’re Jack. We prayed really hard, and followed newly made packed tire tracks out. That’s when my car went from Jack to Jacques, the freaking awesome car.

Senior year: Had to drive for pre-student teaching and student teaching. At very early hours. My trusty stereo (again, you’re awesome, Rebecca) made this so much easier.

Found out my Dad died in a motorcycle wreck. Had to drive to my student teaching schools the next morning to tell my teachers that I would be gone the next week for the funeral. Cried my eyes out to “I Can Only Imagine” when it came on the radio. (Look up the song. It’s good.)

Brought Lexi home safely from the hospital.

In an estimated 20 times I’ve made the car trip to AZ and back to UT, Jacques has not once failed me. Never even run out of gas on me.

Now, he might need a new alternator. And he definitely needs new tires. But he fits an incredible double stroller in the trunk like a champ.

We love you, Jacques. Are you attached to your cars? Any good stories?