Bonneville blues . . .

It's the end of an era - 21 years of entrusting my life, the lives of those I love, to me behind the wheel of a Bonneville.

I've owned three. Each with its own set of memories, with its own set of tin-woman personality quirks.

I saw the first Bonneville on the highway on our way home from taking our first child off to college--first year, out of state, far from home. I remember crying that Sunday in church as another talented teenager played the flute in her place . . . The image of the car left an indelible mark. A few weeks later, I went in search of one much like it and suspect I found exactly the one--a demo--I'd seen that earlier afternoon. It was blue--really just blue--and I loved it. But, like so many first-of-its generation cars, not so very reliable. The fuel pump failed within walking distance of work. Several years later, the (first) transmission failed when I was on my way to work on a statewide testing day (I was the school test coordinator). From that car I learned to diagnose terminal illness of the alternator, a skill that spared me two potential Bonneville strandings. Having also learned to diagnose cancer of the transmission, I reluctantly traded it in for Bonneville #2 (just in time, I was told).

Bonneville #2 - an interesting metallic purple gray with soft gray leather seating - was my love. I'm sure it had its share of mechanical problems. In fact I remember one I diagnosed long before the mechanics would believe I wasn't just some crazy woman who thought she understood cars. And, yes, this car too came at a turning point in my life--moving, sending my last child off to college (first year, out of state, far from home), moving again . . . If it hadn't been for that last child, I don't know that I could have let that car go . . .

On the morning of one of those January days with snow in the air, my last child had what we hope still would be his last wreck - a close call, interstate median, just missing trees that could have stopped time for us all. I had promised him Bonneville #2 when the time came for me to move on to something newer, more reliable. Now, when I wasn't at all ready, was the time. On an icy Saturday, eight years ago, I met Bonneville #3 - midnight blue metallic, taupe leather seats, I was determined not to become attached.

This wasn't just about keeping a promise. It was also about taking a leap of faith. More car than I had funds to purchase, even with a five year loan, at the time . . . Just a few months later, I was offered the career opportunity that has shaped these last eight years--and the extra pay I so needed to support my Bonneville passion.

This Saturday--8.5 years and almost 140K miles later--I found the strength to let go. I could sense that this was the time--not that I wanted to let go (I would have kept Bonny 3 forever too), but that I must let go. Bonny 3 must have sensed my decision. When I turned the key in the ignition yesterday morning, silence . . . The original battery (I could write a book on what I've learned since about batteries located under the back seat, passenger side, AAA can't replace, special mounting kit required) died without warning (as if I hadn't been watching the battery indicator for years now, thinking surely I would know).

For the first time in 21 years, I am not a Bonneville owner. I've joined the ranks of SUV owners, downsized, de-glamorized . . .

I will not become attached to this car . . . It's not a Bonneville, after all . . . But I opted for the blue without and the gray leather within all the same . . .