End of an Era: Goodbye Coop

I got a new car last week. A grown up, sensible car with more features than I could ever begin to know how to use. I traded in my flashy sporty, candy apple red coupe with my faded college sticker on the back windshield and burned CD’s dating back to 2005 in the CD changer. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my new car and have been finding any excuse to drive it around town. But I have to admit, driving Coop (it’s a coupe, so I named him Coop – creative, huh?) for the last time on the way to the dealership, made me really sad.

I couldn’t help but think about all we’d been through together over the past 5 years:

  • I got Coop after winning the argument with my parents that since they were saving money by having me live at home for a semester, I deserved a new car.  The two-tone, ghetto-fabulous Camry I’d been cruising around in since I got my license was downright unacceptable to be seen in the parking lot of my corporate internship.
  • I then abandoned him in my parent’s driveway while I set off to study abroad in New Zealand, Australia and Fiji for 6 months.
  • We went on weekend road trips to visit friends at UMass, UConn and Roger Williams – all resulting in miserably hungover rides home.
  • I hung my university tassle around Coop’s rear-view after graduation, and kept it there for way too long, unwilling to accept college was behind me.
  • Summer after summer, we cruised (or sat in stand still traffic), windows down, over the Bourne and Sagamore bridges for weekend Cape trips.
  • I mended my broken heart in Coop, blasting  and singing along to emo John Mayer and Dashboard Confessional songs on long night drives.
  • He was with me on every heinously long commute to and from my first  job post-college. And provided a private place to conduct phone interviews during my lunch breaks when I could no longer stand said job.
  • He was towed on multiple occasions because the parking rules in our neighborhood corresponded with the BC Football schedule (no, but really) and while I enjoyed a few tailgates, I clearly couldn’t be bothered to monitor the Eagles’ schedule on a weekly basis. Until my roommates and I stole parking spots from our next door neighbors, after which, he always had a premium reserved spot.
  • Regardless of the season, he almost always held an unsweetened venti iced green tea in the cup holder, a pair of flip flops in the back seat and at least 2 beach chairs in the trunk.
  • He got me to and from softball games where I met the love of my life. Then spent nights parked outside his apartment and the last 9 months outside the apartment we now live in together.

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Thanks for the memories – you’ll be missed my sweet Coop. Now to figure out how to work this newfangled Batmobile. Not off to the best start considering I left the headlights on overnight and had to get jumped within the first week.  Oops…

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On a semi-related note, now that I’ve made it clear I have a hard time letting go of things, I have to share how my memory hoarding tendencies have finally paid off. For those of you who have an entire box of t-shirts that you never wear but can’t bear to give away stored in your parent’s attic labeled “MY MEMORIES – DO NOT THROW OUT” (everyone has that, right?) – allow me to introduce Project RePat. You ship said tees off in a bag that they send you and three weeks later you receive an amazing t-shirt quilt! It’s that easy. I’m obsessed.  I now spend my nights snuggled up on the couch draped in not just any old fleece blanket but in 1×1 fabric squares of  nostalgia.

 

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