Polar Opposites

The end of September brought many different emotions . . . my flying season was being mercifully extended by cooperative weather and a work arrangement that required me to be home every weekend (which was certainly a double-edged sword, being a 5.5-6 hour drive each way). On September 18th, my beloved Sir Duncan the Saab, a 1993 Commemorative Edition Saab 900 Turbo, turned over the much-anticipated 200,000th mile!


Big moment for my little car!

Exactly a week later, Sir Duncan was involved in an extremely unfortunate accident less than a mile from the final highway exit at the tail end of a long drive (I was asleep in the passenger seat while a generous friend helped me get home). It was the second time in two months I woke up to smelling smoke (from the airbag), and the squealing tires weren't a bonus. Once was enough, thank you very much . . .



I KNEW there was no way to save my beloved car no matter how much I wanted to. I spent a lot of the next few days crying, nursing a bruised shoulder and ribs with a swollen ankle. We were fortunate that no one was injured aside from the requisite bumps and bruises, but the emotional pain of having my prized car stolen away from me was bitingly fresh. The fact that I got 1.5 hours of sleep, in the car, before working an eight hour shift on a swollen ankle certainly didn't help my mindset (refused to call in sick . . . too poor!).



Writing this almost five months after the accident reveals not all of the sadness has evaporated. The 4 months following the accident resulted in many disagreements with my dad (I wanted another classic 900, something with character, not a practical, but boring, new 9-3 or 9-5), much tension between my mother and me, and strained my relationship with my good friend who was driving. I drove 8-9 different cars, depending how you count, was stranded in the middle of nowhere once with a failed alternator, and ended up driving a loaner car with the turn signals dangling by the wires. I also got a $300 ticket for not having the car registered (doesn't make much sense when you get a new one to borrow every other week) . . . accepting donations! ; )

I'm sure some of my trouble adjusting had to do the chaotic months preceding the accident, from the house fire to moving back to school, to finding I couldn't transfer my job, which necessitated driving six hours back home every weekend until the hiring freeze was lifted and I could transfer. One of my most prized possessions, one which I distinctly recall being very relieved about knowing it was safe in a detached garage during the house fire, unexpectedly exited my life, leaving me feeling a little unsteady (daily dose of psychology: check).

Things are on the upswing . . . despite the world's best efforts to the contrary, I'm still alive and kicking. There is still a fair amount of residual stress in my life but I'm handling each day as it comes and trying to remember that kick-ass gal I used to know. No worries, with an injection of yellow airplane, she'll be back firing on all cylinders!

It's a new year, and I'm bound to make the best of it!

I know this post is a little off-topic, but I'm trying to explain my unexplained (and unexcusable) absence.

--Amy

P.S. I'm now the title holder of a 1994 Commemorative Edition Saab 900 Turbo . . . convertible!