the long goodbye

After eleven years of having a car in the 'Saug, I am letting it go (kinda). At the end of this month, my baby goes under the tarp and may never come back out. I'm already anxious about it (how will I get to neu+ral on a holiday Sunday? Denny's after midnight? IKEA?!), but monthly costs were just getting a bit too extravagant: $122 in insurance; $60 in gas; average of $100 in repairs. I guess I've found my limit. Let's face it: 95% of my time is spent within six city blocks. I live/work/shop in a comfortable circle about two kilometres in diametre; I have a movie theatre across the street, Book Club meets at my local Second Cup AND I think Grocery Club will be resuming shortly. I'm just… anxious. So much so, that I'm not selling my dear Quinn. He'll be on ice in the garage until such time as I feel I can let go with experiencing serious trauma. And if I need him… well, the insurance company is only a phone call away. I have no idea how long I'll survive. Smokers have their cigs; I have my car. Too bad there are no ignition patches to help me through the withdrawal.