We become so attached to our cars. In this family at least, we have them for ten years and give them names. Everything is anthropomorphized around here.

We had to say goodbye to the Red Zephyr this week.

Our last connection to our lives in California, this was the car that made me feel like a mom. Does that make sense? I mean Callum was two when we got it, so I felt like a mom in lots of ways, little and big, before we got this car, but a station wagon? Nothing says mom like a station wagon, right?

The Red Zephyr brought us here from California. Our dog Phoebe watched the moving vans take all our things away (again...she'd moved out to California with us too) and was so nervous she'd be left behind that she would jump into the back seat and refuse to come out. She was old by the time we made the trip and slept in the backseat next to Callum most of the way, but when we hit the mountains of western Virginia she must have smelled the East Coast because she sat up eagerly. She wanted to ride on the center console between us the rest of the way to our new home.

Oh, it's hard to say goodbye. She was ready to retire though. I won't detail the many indignities of old age that she suffered, but I think it's time she got some rest. Goodbye old paint. Safe travels.