Saying ‘goodbye’ to old friend never easy
by Matthew Skates, nw news editor

     I suppose I’m one of those people who have a hard time letting go of things. I know plenty of people who can let go of one thing and easily substitute another in its place.
     Letting go is a hard concept for me. I was one of those kids and, surely I’m not the only one out there, who had names and personalities for all their stuffed animals. I’d always have to pile all 20 or so on my bed when I went to sleep to make sure none of them got any more attention than the others.
     I have a history of harboring deep emotional feelings for inanimate objects, which isn’t really a problem unless you have to give one of them up.
     Now I’m older and have bigger toys. I had always wanted a VW Bus, and I got one, fully equipped with a table, cabinets, a bed and the goofiest seat belts you’ve ever seen—my dream car. And to top it off, I got my friends to paint all over it. I mean, it was purple to begin with so what else could I do but paint a big sun on the front of it, right?
     You couldn’t help but look at that car and smile.
     Therein lies the beauty; that car made me happy when I was in it. Even in the hottest parts of the summer, I was happy to drive my fun-bus around with no air-conditioning, the greatest testament to the feelings I have for that car.
     Now that school has started and I have to drive from my hometown of Saginaw to NE Campus on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, I need a vehicle that can make the commute without making me feel as though my life is in danger. So I bought a newer car that’s more reliable, and I’m forced by my budget to sell my poor bus.
     Why this is so hard for me I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being nostalgic. I think it’s probably more the memories that surround the object than the object itself. It’s kind of the end of an era, “the days when he drove that crazy van,” as I’m sure it will be referred to by my parents when they tell my children what a weirdo I was.
     Which makes me wonder what happened in that van before I even got it. Who else had a hard time giving it up? My ownership has been but a brief moment in its 30-year life, but I hope it was one of the better moments. I hope whoever buys it will cherish it as much as I did. Probably my only solace in the whole affair is that perhaps someone else will have some good experiences in it. Maybe someone else will have as much fun seeing everyone smiling and pointing as they go down the street as I did.
     I feel like a parent giving up his child for adoption—it’s the right thing to do, but it isn’t exactly fun. So to whomever I end up selling it, take good care of her, and she’ll take good care of you. And once in a while remember me and think of all the things I might have done in it.