Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death

When I left South Dakota for New York City almost three years ago, I left behind two cats, a packed closet in my mom's basement, and almost every single person I have ever loved. I also left behind Sport, my Jeep Liberty. If things could be best friends, Sport was one of mine.


I'm not a car person at all, and Sport was nothing to brag about when making small talk with people at the gas pump. She was a gas guzzler, and she had a crappy CD player that fell out when I hit bumps too hard. But she was mine, and she came into my life at a time when life wasn't feeling particularly kind. Suddenly there was this vehicle in my driveway calling me to drag myself out of bed and into the driver's seat. I could lock the doors and drive as fast as I wanted in whatever direction I wanted to go, and I could sing at the top of my lungs, or wail at the top of my lungs, or both. And I did a lot of both those first 6 months with Sport. Our first winter together was especially cold and dark, and together we trudged through snowbanks and icy roads. She kept me warm and safe.

When the ground thawed in the spring and I started to feel like myself again, I filled her up with everything I owned, and we moved on. We went on road trips to visit friends, and we went on adventures on blue highways. Those days there was less wailing and more singing, and I rolled down the windows and felt free for the first time in a long time. It was just me and Sport, driving and sometimes parking, but never for very long. Sometimes I still had bad days, but she would call me out of bed and into the driver's seat, and we would drive around Clay County, and I would sing and wail and feel so much better. But after a couple of years I decided I need to move on again, but this time without Sport.

My mom and sister took over driving her when I moved away, and I'm sure they had their own adventures inside her now semi-dented doors. But three years is a long time in car years, and my mom finally made the decision to trade Sport in. I know she's just a car, and a banged up, over-driven one at that, but I can't help but feel nostalgic about how far Sport took me and how free she made me feel.





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