Melodious Road trip blues

Melting a few saline snowballs in the corners of my eyes, I waved farewell from my driveway this morning. Yes, parting is such sad, sad saline snowball-stimulating sorrow sometimes...

I knew that it was the last time that I would ever see her.

I'd never see her slip on the ice again, endangering not only her own bruised body but those of innocent bystanders as well... I'd never hear her endearing huffing and puffing as we ascended Sherwin grade on our way home to the snow-capped base of Mammoth Mountain... And most tragically, I'd sung Bob Dylan's 115th St. blues with her while out of gas on a mountain road for the last time...

Yup... Soul mates like her are hard to come by... I mean, how many others ask for duct-tape over a band-aid, take spilt coffee with a smile, stutter when you ask them to hurry up, socially freeze up on you in crowded parking lots, and beg strangers to jump them just for kicks...?

She wanted to share in just one last vocal song with me before she left... I can't blame her, really... A kind of parting closure, if you will... So, we sang "These boots are made for walking", then I took out the radio and said goodbye to my dearest friend: my '82 Toyota Tercel with the duct-taped mirrors and ski pole held-up hatchback.

I think the beauty and chaos of the universe have something grand in store for us all.
And she is no exception.
I'm sure she'll get over me and move on to enrich the life of someone new...

(But, I DO secretly hope that that new special someone won't be able to diligently dance in the driver's seat to a Dylan diddy with her quite the way I could...)