Civic, Sayonara

Yesterday I was finally convinced by my boss and supervisor to scrap the car that was handed down through four of my predecessors. It is sad to say goodbye to such a car that still functions. But economically it was the only feasible option. I would have to pay more on maintenance alone for the Civic than it would cost to buy a much newer car. The stereo and components will be salvaged, of course, but the car will go to car heaven in the form of a much smaller cubic shape after it has been compressed. In hawaii I could probably sell this car for at least $1500. But in Japan, for around the same price I can buy a 1999 Toyota mid-size with 100,000km (appr. 65,000 miles).

The civic is 16 years old, maybe almost 17. That's the age that I lived on Maui for an entire 12 months, only leaving once for a basketball trip to the big island. It was a happy year--full of sunshine, glee, and the rare morning hangover that I spent with my parents, trying to conceal the somehow too obvious affliction (always a charming, refreshing experience)--but it was not my last. But I was not a 1989 Honda Civic, and I probably will never be. And it will never get the chance to live on Maui like I did. Maybe some of its parts will be recycled and find their way to Maui. That is a comforting thought.