Much, much later, in the land of Trunk

The Shagwagon finally found a home with a hunter.  I
sold it in the end for about $600...the memories
are hazy now, as I've tried to repress them.  I
believe the man who bought it was planning on
gutting the inside and using it to haul animal
carcasses through the woods.  Oh sweet wagon,
how could I have let this be your fate?
I took some B&Ws of it before it went, but 
nothing will ever replace it in my heart.
It will live forever as beautiful and young
in my memory.  How I loved it! How I miss it...
especially how cheap parts were (yay, america!)


5/1/00

The shagwagon has now found a temporary resting
place in a gas station to be sold to the first
person who will buy it.  I can hear the stampede
now! I'm hoping to get a small bit of cash for the
almighty blue whale, but more than that, I hope
for someone who will love it as much as I do.  
Someone who will lovingly armor-all it and vacuum
the seats.  I drove it for (what may be) the last 
time, and did a lot of thinking.  The window might
not have opened properly, and the steering may
have had a lot of play, but the shagwagon was great.


4/26/00

Two years ago, my father bought me a car.  
Not just any car, the best car.  A 1985 Ford LTD 
Country Squire Station wagon in robins egg blue with 
realistic fake wood trim.  Interior?  Blue, blue, with 
more blue.
It had power windows.  It was big.  
     If it wasn't exactly what I was looking 
for it was still a free car.  So I booked it down
to Florida to pick up my big blue whale, and 
drove it back to New York.  Sure, I got some 
flack from my less open minded friends, but 
were they laughing when it drove five people 
around with plenty of cargo room? Were they 
laughing when four of us moved our friend out 
of college in DC, along with all of his stuff? NO!
    My car has served me well.  I never had many 
problems with it, except for occasional stalling 
in wet weather and it needed oil sometimes.  It got 
me where I had to go, and with a comfy ride to boot. 
For those of you who have never owned a wagon, imagine
looking in your rearview and seeing acres of 
space behind you.  Imagine being able to move in 
and out of your dorm room in one trip.  Imagine being
able to haul a dresser inside your vehicle.  
I did all that and more.
    The shagwagon was a safe ride.  I rammed that 
thing into a metal pole at thirty MPH on a rainy night.  
The pole fell over, and my bumber wasn't even scratched. 
Compare that to todays five mile per hour crash test 
ratings! New cars get crushed bumpers at five MPH, forget
about thirty.  There would be airbag deployment, no doubt
about it.  I didn't have a worry in the world in that car,
driving around in pure metal bliss.
     Even with my slightly oxidized exterior, I still 
found the shagwagon to be beautiful.  I never had a 
problem finding it in a crowded parking lot.  It was a 
pleasure to wash and dry it, watching it glisten wet in 
the sun.  The "wood" panelling was dry looking until I 
figured out that a light spraying of armor-all (imagine!)
made it look young again.  My car looked good empty and
it looked good full.
     Cargo? Fuggedaboutit! I never had to open the back,
I could just reach into my trunk.  There were pockets 
behind the seats, and in the front doors, and secret spaces
in the back.  So much storage area in that beautiful thing.
     And just a word about travel.  I took my shagwagon 
back and forth to Stonybrook for an entire summer, 
coming from 50 or so miles away.  I drove it to Paul's 
house for the weekends of fun that I came to look forward
to so much.  I made my first drive without dad from 
Florida in that car.  It drove in and out of NYC 
many times, it picked up Enrique and dropped off 
Dave.  It got me to and from work.
     I will always love my first car, because 
it was my first car and because it was a present 
from dad, and because it was really great. It was
the perfect new car, big, safe and old.  It still
runs, and I hate to give it up.  I will search 
for the perfect home for my shagwagon, someone 
who will love it as much as I do.