Good Bye Golden Bullet

Good Bye Golden Bullet

Hello Butt Warmers

Day 91-Year 3

Team Zybko

January 7, 2014

The Golden Bullet was my rebound car, more platonic that anything. It's OK, he knew it from the get go, he was completely  aware he was taking second fiddle to Mr. McGoogly. Ah yes, the love of my vehicle life. The handsome 15 passenger Prison Van that held my hand and proudly represented a season in my mothering career to never come again. Dramatic but true. That post  has patiently remained in my draft folder collecting dust for over a year now. It is still hard not to get choked up. Anyway, more on crazy soccer moms that name their vehicles and oddly make them part of the family at a later time.

I will totes me goats give the Golden Bullet serious props though. He was completely faithful, never once letting us down despite his age and high mileage count. Dutifully taking us around town like an expensive Cadillac, slipping in and out of car lines like a ninja and traveling smoothly to out of town soccer tournaments like it was his job. He took his new, messy, loud family with stride. He always had a great attitude. Always. Never ever complaining about cheesy bumper stickers, smelly shinguards, discarded snack pack trash, sticky lollipops or new dents as bikes were shoved haphazardly through the hatchback in a hasty rush.

Like all good relationships it was a give and take. He put up with us, so we took his iniquities as equally as he did ours and tried not to complain. The Golden Bullet was no spring chicken. His unusable ducked taped passenger side window, lack of shocks, sudden stopping at random intersections and the sporadic working of the A/C and heater were all part of the gig. A super cheap $600 gig. Because our need of each other was built on borrowed miles and the foresight he would need to be replaced more sooner than later we decided to say goodbye before his final resting place landed us on the side of interstate 77.

The Golden Bullet was recently donated for an auction. With no knowledge of who his new owners would be or where he would ride out the last few years of his mini van existence, we rely on faith they will be good to him.

I was encourage by Baby Daddy not to wait til the last minute to clear out the acquired junk and clutter only I seem to be able to create in a vehicle. Despite this warning I did in fact wait til the last minute, actually the last 45 minutes before the happy tow truck guy rolled up in the parking lot looking for a cheesy, worn Dodge. After a few silent thoughts and dumping it's contents onto the side walk it was time to say goodbye. Amazing how fast three quarters of a hour passes while clearing out our life from under the seats, dash board, doors and hidden compartments. Plus answering questions from nice neighbors as they passed by the pile of stuff getting bigger beside the van.  
Are you moving? No.
Are you gong on a long trip? No.
Are you broken down? No. 

Smiling politely I shake my head, thankful for their concern and small talk yet also silently thinking to myself, what...you don't keep kids bikes, a change of clothes, roller blades, 42 balls, a box of multiplication cards, 2 soccer side line blankets, 18 unplayable scratched CD's, 9 half naked Barbies, a pogo stick, a travel box of baby wipes, $ store kites, a drawer full of sharpies, scattered laminated memory verses, extra pairs of cheap sunglasses, a couple BB guns, spare food for a park side feast, 3 slightly broken umbrellas, 4 nail clippers, 8 half used sparkly pink spyglasses, a few seasoned fold able chairs, 5 baseball hats that no longer fit a big Zybko kid head, the top to someones swimsuit, borrowed underwear in a padded envelope never sent back to it's owner, extra long jumper cables, a lost CCD folder found between the seats and more than enough old hardened pointy french fries to feed a small village? Geez, normal, neat, organized car people are so weird. Any-who. Thank you Golden Bullet for not judging me as I lost patience with my kids, waved not so nicely to big city drivers, spilled black coffee on your floor board and sang out of tune to many top 40 hits on the way to soccer. 
I got one less problem with out you...I G G Y....I G G Y. 

 Golden Bullet you will be missed. Oh, one more thing, if you find Drexel's misplaced lacrosse jersey I will pay for postage to get it back. Thanks.

Our new van already named the Black Mamba has 4 BUTT WARMERS and a remote starter. Golden Bullet who? Ha! I'm sure rolling the windows up and down to simply watch them work or creating unnecessary heat under my yoga pants will one day wear off. For now though and probably well past the coming of springtime I am enjoying all the bells and whistles the Black Mamba has to offer.

Thank you Lord for a van than gets me from point A to point B and for the invention of butt warmers.