My El Camino, which was sold to me by my grandfather in his final transaction and our final conversation before he died, is leaving me tomorrow. Through six years, three moves, three jobs, four relationships, two big garden overhauls and countless wild nights and art projects, my baby has been by my side. The night we put my grandfather's ashes in the river and he lingered in an eddy around my grandmother's feet ("I've got Daddy in my shoes!") I sailed her at 120 miles per hour, drunk and sobbing, down Merlin-Galice Road. The giant fiberglass baby bear my mother and I sculpted as a public art commission was a prominent passenger. One lazy afternoon (I used to have those) en route to the river my best friend and I collapsed in paroxysms of laughter so extreme they drew stares from other motorists upon realizing how funny the Beatles song "Why don't we do it in the road" actually is. These and countless other memories came flooding back to me as I was cleaning her out this evening.
Like all old cars, things fall apart that you least expect. The door handle, turn signals, ceiling upholstery, air conditioning, stereo, and shocks are all things I have learned one by one to live without, but slowly over time she has fallen into a state of disrepair which left me at a crossroads, realizing she needs an investment of time, money and mechanical expertise, all of which I sadly lack, to live on as she deserves. I, on the other hand, need a vehicle which can be both a farm truck and a commuter. (Also, the rest of the family has been insisting that Grandpa was fast and loose with cars, never kept them more than two years, and would find it ridiculous that I hadn't dumped 'that old thing' already.) So, I sold her on a handshake and a free tamale to a fellow Saturday Market vendor for a fair price, considering everything she needs, which became the down payment for her replacement. He is a hobbyist mechanic looking for something to fix up and love. Perfect. I would accept no less than an appropriate and loving home.
The pros:
1. Happy home for Raylene, as mentioned above.
2. '97 F150 pickup with A/C and tape deck. Whoo!
3. No more creepy men slowing down to leer at a girl in a classic car. Especially spooky when my dangerously beautiful teenage stepdaughter is driving it.
4. I can cross the county line without fear of breaking down.

The cons:
1. No more Raylene.