Farewell to an Old Best Friend
The Blue Thunder, my old best friend, is leaving me today. I tried to sell it, then give it away, and no takers, none at all. For 12 years, this car has been a home, a life-saver, a ferocious friend and protector, carried me and my animals across country and up and down the California coast.. And it still and always carries my heart in that great huge space, that massive steel Chevy.
At noon it’s being towed to the local fire department, and they’ll use it to practice rescues. I don’t want to think about it. I’m glad it won’t be cannibalized by strangers, and that it will serve as good training to people I like.
When I finally decided to do it, I cleaned out the interior. It’s been parked and not driven for a year now, next to my house. I cried first, and laughed hysterically at the find of acorns and torn up towels for some critter nest, packed into the dash and under the seats. Used well, after all, even while still. My old baby.
Au revoir.
Farewell, old buddy. 250,000 miles worth. The Blue Thunder saga follows:
I spent from March to August talking a Virginia Farmer/Preacher out of this fantastic car. “I never part with my Suburbans. That’s all steel.” When he finally said yes and settled on a price,he and his son towed it out of the south forty witha tractor where it had been 10 years hubcap deep in mud. They did a tuneup, threw in a new battery, and allowed one new tire. “I don’t know, the other three look pretty good.” It was an 8 cylinder 1974 GMC, and almost everything worked. I headed west with my last six Brooklyn cats, the chocolate Labrador I’d fallen in love with in the Blue Ridge, and not much else. An Alabama garage mechanic had it up on the lift. “Lady, I never once seen tires with soil inside the rim!” We got three new ones. Texas: the radio, both wiper blades, and the muffler went in a downpour. We escaped a hurricane in Galveston. Some serious window leakage had started. The rear window crank bounced off in Arizona. By Davenport the master cyliner was shot and the brakes were gone by Monterey. The battery blew up in Pebble Beach. The radiator exploded in Carmel Valley. Since then, it’s had almost everything replaced. But Lord how I love it still. It’s been a home, a friend, a reliable force on the highways of America and in our national parks. It’s covered with travel stickers now, shiny in parts, safe, and resting. Right outside the door. The inspiration for “The Gandy Dancer.”
Pen & Ink Drawing, from”The Gandy Dancer & Other Short Stories” Trafford 2004, or amazon.com, by BD Sparhawk.
Available for sale as Cards, Matted Prints, Laminated Prints, Mounted Prints, Canvas Prints and Framed Prints
DawsonImages, 9 months ago
Nice drawing, I have expect Chevy Chase to hop into the wagon and take off Ala the Vacation movies
Barbara Sparhawk, 9 months ago
Yes indeedy. Lots of humor & insanity in road trips, old cars. It’s still in my driveway. Battery’s gone dead, but the tires remain inflated, motor good. I’m driving a red jeep wrangler that could fit in the back of the Suburban.
Antanas, 5 months ago
beautiful drawing
cheetaah, 5 months ago
It’s a great car, I feel your pain, great drawing.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to cheetaah’s comment, 5 months ago
Oh thank you, cheetah.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Antanas’s comment, 5 months ago
Thank you, Antanas.
Karen01, 5 months ago
my first baby like this was an ancient white VW Beetle – had her for years – she was reknown for having a strange wiring situation that meant when I hooted goodbye to friends at night the headlights would dim, ha ha ha. A photo I took of her once was featured in the local newspaper I worked for then, and she was recognized by a then (elderly) lady who called me, and spoke for ages about her life memories… was strangely sweet having her share her own memories – made me realize that car would outlive me and provide a few generations more with their very own stories. didn’t stop me crying when i finally sold her either though! xx
MichelleR, 5 months ago
Awesome drawing. Nice job.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Karen01’s comment, 5 months ago
Oh Karen, a kindred spirit. I love the horn/headlight combo with your old white VW. Interesting what you say, too, that we barely know the effect of our automobiles (or our lives) on others, and sometimes have the privilege of finding out. Thanks.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to MichelleR’s comment, 5 months ago
Thanks Michelle. My old honey.
whisperingruth, 5 months ago
Oh Barbara….........I can’t believe you have parted with this faithful friend….......such a huge part of your life filled with so many memories….......you have a big heart and soul to leave your steel stallion to the firefighters…......what a wonderful person you are Barbara…..........a little part of your history leaving your life…........who will be carrying you around now my Dear Friend? xxoo
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to whisperingruth’s comment, 5 months ago
My little red ‘91 ragtop jeep, which I dearly love; could’ve driven it right inside the belly of old Blue. The 4wd jeep has a radio, lights, windshield wipers, fantastic heater, cd player, bucket seats, and I took the top off last week, like riding a motocycle. But hoo boy I miss the old Suburban, and very glad I said goodbye among friends here.
xxoo to you too, Ruthie.
SNik, 5 months ago
they all are alive and thus have their lifespans. hope his soul won’t be restless after so many years of hard work. great dedi, Barbara!
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to SNik’s comment, 5 months ago
Aw, thanks for this kindness. Nice way to look at it, and as with myself, I expect all things to go on forever. I hope it for all I love, and that sure includes old Blue Thunder.
Louise Cooke, 5 months ago
that is one legendary sounding friend…and Blue thunder was so lucky to have you to buddy-up with – who else would ventured so far, wide and loyally with him? Journeys with Barbara and the travelling animals…sensational!
rosepepper, 5 months ago
Beautiful drawing, movement with the diagonals and mystery with the darkness. I know the feeling with an ol friend, the vehicile of so many great memories and adventures. My Max, a little Mazda 323 has recently moved away, much loved despite the break downs and squeaky mouse clutch. Dont worry Barbara your wonderful ol chevy will be happy to bring all those happy times to the firemen who will love her too. The stories sound like a book in the making, the drawing would of course be the cover….children would love it.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Louise Cooke’s comment, 5 months ago
It was a hell of a lot of fun. scary, thrilling, worrisome, profound. Like all trips, eh Louise?
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to rosepepper’s comment, 5 months ago
Oh Max, I mourn for you too. That’s a fine idea, thanks, about a children’s book. I loved books on machines when I was a kid, the Little Engine That Could still a favorite. And I even have a proper ending for it now, with the fire department. Sigh. I miss her, but it was time.
Jo Hoden, 5 months ago
What a great piece of work and a great story,and what a lovely way to remember it to.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Jo Hoden’s comment, 5 months ago
The pain’s leaving, and really I worried about it so, and never drove it any more. It was a good goodbye. Thanks, Jo.
Mark Gardner, 5 months ago
Wonderful story, the car has been a great friend and travelling companion to you, its sad when partnerships come to an end but it has gone to be put to great use and you should be proud, farewell Blue Thunder, you have been part of many adventures.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Mark Gardner’s comment, 5 months ago
That’s really nice, Mark. Said like a soldier on the battlefield, I like it. I’m feeling better about the whole thing. It was a good idea after all.
David Parkin, 5 months ago
You are a very talented artist and this is a mighty fine drawing of your dear old friend.
I like very much and appreciate the words you have written too.
-David
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to David Parkin’s comment, 5 months ago
For all you’ve said…many thanks, David.
JanG, 5 months ago
Love the story and will look up your book. Sound like you had great adventures with this car. How hard to let go of such a good old friend. Glad though that it gets a second (ninth?) life at the fire station. Great drawing – love the animals perched inside.
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to JanG’s comment, 5 months ago
Thanks Jan, so very much. A home when there was no other, me and my cats and my chocolate Labrador, my palette and paints tucked under the front seat, an old Bible, cat food, dog food, 50 lb bags of kibble, rain boots, some tools, and not much else. The most powerful experience was being so absolutely bare. The book’s starting to sell again! It’s really good, you’d like it (if I do say so myself). It’s good because it’s filled with hope against impossible odds, which is apparently the way I conduct my life.
Zeanana, 4 months ago
Barbara, I read through your profile, you story here and … wow… I am left speachless! I have to admit, I admire your bravery and I love the way you write.
If you don’t mind, I will add you to my watch list to continue to read your texts, knowing that I probably never will have thrills close to yours, hoping that maybe one day I will after all. Give your animal friends a big cuddle from me :c)
Barbara Sparhawk in reply to Zeanana’s comment, 4 months ago
You’re very kind, Zeanana. Many thanks. I have always said if I can do it, so can everybody else. I am motivated by this real terror: to end up dead—and never tried for any experience that might enlighten, improve, and inspire me. How boring is that.
What we’re afraid of turns out to be small potatoes. When we find ourselves on the edge of a cliff, turns out the view is fabulous.