Two years ago, the mechanic said that my ’99 Taurus had about six months left in it. Wednesday night, the mechanic confirmed, after several hundred thousand miles, my Taurus is no more. This car was legendary. Despite the enormous abuse heaped upon poor Taurus, it seemed to always respond, “that all you got?”
- In Lancaster PA a girl spun out on the icy road in front of me and sat perpendicular to traffic. My brakes offered no help as I slid into her, damaging the driver’s side headlight.
- On the interstate in Richmond VA, a truck in front of me kicked up an enormous tire remnant which hung suspended in the air like a ribbon and crashed on my windshield destroying the wipers and cracking the glass.
- In Greenville SC in the parking lot of the old Portland Studios, Youths took rocks and a bat to the windshield.
- In Columbia SC a well-meaning driver waved me on, encouraging me to make a left hand turn into a gas station. I waved ‘thank you’ and started the turn just as a pest control truck zoomed past and took off my bumper. I watched the thing twirl in front of my car like a baton.
- Then, two nights ago around midnight on the way back from Alissa’s mother’s house, I swerved to miss a big tire piece from a truck tire, and ran bang into another tire piece, and by far the bigger of the two!
- Taurus drove me around Lancaster Pennsylvania, New Hampsire, Columbia SC, Indiana, Alabama, and Greenville, soldiering on without a peep or a murmur, but even the bravest eventually succumb to death in the end.
At ease, Soldier. Your work is done.