One day, awhile back, I was sitting in traffic. There was a Subaru in front of me. I noticed that the word Subaru, backwards, is Ur-a-Bus. I laughed out loud. It’s stuck ever since. And now, on Friday, I said goodbye to an old, faithful friend. How quickly events can change your priorities. How quickly those events happen.


Moab camping.

R’s grandmother passed away, so we made the decision to drive to Minnesota to be there for the funeral. We drove, with Amelia and Loki in tow, to Denver, where my parents are. The plan was to rent a car to drive to and from Minnesota, so I wouldn’t have to put the wear and tear on my car. Turns out, since neither R or I have a credit card, that’s not a thing. We made the game-time decision to just take the Bus to Minnesota, since it’s a long drive and we really didn’t have the time to deal with it anymore. Amelia was to spend the week with the grandparents, and off we went!

Drive to Minnesota and the subsequent couple days with family was fine. R’s mom and I split about 2 1/2 bottles of home-brewed wine (and solved all the world’s problems) in one night, and we were able to spend precious time with R’s sister and family. The two little nephews are just adorable. Early Thursday morning, we left Minnesota to head back to Denver.


Somewhere in Nebraska my check engine light came one. It has done that before, the engine will misfire and the light turns on. Then, about 60 miles from Denver, it started blinking. It blinked for maybe a minute, I said to R, “well, that’s weird,” the oil light came on for a hot second, a POP was heard, lots of smoke, then death. I pulled over to the shoulder on the highway. Apparently a blinking check engine light means: Imminent Catastrophic Failure. Pull Over Now. You’re Fucked. Sorry About That.


OR coast beach.

Being close to Denver was the silver lining (there’s ALWAYS a silver lining). My brother came and picked us up, took us back to my parent’s house. Bus was towed the next morning to my dad’s trusted mechanic. We were more-or-less stranded for a good part of the day until the mechanic inevitably called with the bad news: Bus wasn’t coming back. We went to clean it out and, I won’t deny, that I shed some tears while saying my goodbyes. I made the decision to donate it to help teach future mechanics, and that was that. Dad rented us a car to get back home that night.

So now we’re down to one car. What’s funny is that our plan had been to trade in R’s car for a truck sometime this summer; his car is definitely on its last legs. I was just going to stick with the Bus until it died. So, things kind of happened backwards, which puts us in a situation where we’re both suddenly in the market for new vehicles. Which means that now we’re much more concerned with vehicles than anything else. This week we’ll go car and truck shopping and see what happens!


Grand Canyon North Rim.

In the meantime, RIP Bus (or as my brother liked to call him, #zoobus), and thank you, not only for getting us to MN for the funeral, but for all the other cool places we’ve been together over the years. I got him in 2008, we’ve been through at least 20 states together, he had nearly 300k miles, we’ve seen a lot of rad places, and been through a lot together. He was a good car.


Thanks for the adventures.

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