Death of the Opamobile

It was a difficult day for all of us when the Silver Honda Civic pulled out of the adjacent neighborhood without looking at the oncoming traffic. Try as she might, the Opamobile didn't have the strength left inside her to push those antiquated--sorry--anti-lock brakes any more ferociously as the front end slammed into the back of the startled Honda. The look of terror as the driver screamed into her cellphone, realizing the unavoidable carnage that was about to ensue only milliseconds later only heightened the Opamobile's last breath. Alas, she is no more. The blue beast that could only find familiar refuge at retirement homes, bingo parlors, shuffleboard tournaments or shipyards died on that autumn day. The explosion of the airbags ensured that there would be no repairs. Humiliated, tarnished and now banged up beyond its Kelley Blue Book and NADA value, the once proud bluehair--sorry--metallic blue Buick Century was towed to the lot for the last time. Opamobile, we hardly knew ye.

I think that for Kim and the kids, they will miss the scent most of all. Never really sure what smells might emanate from the beast, but assured that it would be unpleasant, created a car that was truly mine and mine alone. I can't recall the last time that Kim actually stepped foot in the Opamobile--"Um. No Honey, let's just take the van." The kids weren't so fortunate, and once the wiring on the Sirius was shot, and there was no Radio Disney to be heard in the confines of the relic, they were forced to endure countless torture as I drove them the 1 1/4 miles back and forth to school, or heaven forbid, all the way to the Athletic Center. It wasn't like they could escape the malfeasance either. Over the years, every window in that '98 standardbearer of American engineering ended up breaking, to the point that Poppy Joe and I just nailed the bastards closed. We could only replace a pulley system 5 or 6 times per window before it got a little silly. The only one that remained working was on the driver's side, because there is nothing more humiliating than trying to go through a drive-thru and needing to open the door to pay for your crappy food. Well, nothing except perhaps going through that exercise in the Opamobile.

But to be fair, the beast served me well. The ladies loved the stylings and especially the little nuances that made the Opamobile especially, dare I say, Sexy. The missing hubcap on the front right tire always made an impression as did the layer of film that made you ask yourself, "Is that car really blue, or maybe grey? Whatever it is, it's dynamite!" At least I was pretty sure that was what they were thinking. Needless to say, I got lots of looks--generally surprised to see someone so youthful driving such a sophisticated automobile. I guess that is just the risk one runs when living in the lap of such luxury.

I think that the neighbors are also somewhat sorry to see it go. Something to do with property value or the like. Alex especially liked riding in the blue beauty to Market Street or to Starbucks because he couldn't roll down the windows to smoke and deep down, I am pretty sure that over the long haul, this will extend his life around six or seven hours--no need to thank me. Anyhow, I don't possess the words to give the Opamobile its proper due. It has served us well and has been extremely affordable (well, except for the exorbitant cost of gas and repairs--since I never actually had the oil changed, I saved a bunch there). The new ride, an '09 Hyundai Sonata is currently clean, efficient and pretty cool with gadgets. It has the XM built in and a port for the I-Pod and a CD player. The Opamobile had a pretty sweet cassette deck. The Sonata has cupholders built right in, where the ingenuity that was the 1998 Buick Century didn't realize that their drivers might enjoy a beverage while operating a motor vehicle--I mean seriously, even in 1998, didn't people enjoy a soda or a bottled water while driving--who the hell desinged this thing? The only real downside I have found in the Hyundai is that there is an interior release handle inside the trunk. Now, what the hell am I going to do with the kids when they piss me off?