I was kind of sleepy, but I changed my sleepyhead voice to my "I'm awake and competent" voice and gave the directions. I fooled around with the email, checked on the kitchen, and went tearing through the file box to find the pink slip on the car. I had a brief moment of panic when I couldn't easily find it, but then I remembered it was in an envelope.

At 10AM, the tow truck showed up.

I didn't think I'd be sad, but I was telling the tow truck driver all the things he should know about it, like that the alternator was going bad because of some kind of intermittent short and to be sure to pass that on, that the car had been a great car, that a coat of paint and the fixed wiring was all it needed, that it had held my kids and you could see the stains from that. I felt like I was giving away a favorite pet or a child.

As I looked in the trunk, I discovered for the first time in all the time that I have owned this car, that the back seat actually drops in it. I was stunned. I told Mike and he was slackjawed in amazement.

What I couldn't begin to confront was all of the really cool things that I'd done in this car. I'd taken Russell to his pre-school graduation in this car. I'd gone with Bernie and Emma up to Lake Berryessa and we had a total blast floating around in the water and barbecuing meat and drinking pepsi's.

I'd let the cats loose in the car when they were kittens, so they could come up and get loved while we were driving to the vets. I'd had to pull Angie kitty clinging to the rug from under the front passenger seat because she was freaked out about being in a car. Cowboy had wrapped himself around my shoulder.

I was an air conditioning virgin before that car. The Nissan spoiled me and pampered me as I endured 100+ degree temperatures driving around in the Sacramento valley. I'm an a/c slut now.

My car protected me, my husband and my baby girl. When I got hit, the car didn't crumple and hurt Mike. It protected me from a stupid Pakistani woman who hit us and drove off.