"People like you or I know, we have an unshakable belief that cars are living entities. Well, not a Toyota Corolla obviously, but... you can develop a relationship with a car, and that's what non-car people just don't get."

Jeremy Clarkson, in Eric Bana's autobiographical film "Love The Beast".

I came to driving fairly late in life (well, compared to those who get their licence at 16 anyway), only getting my licence in the early 90's. Last week I would have said that I had owned two cars. Today... three.

The first was one that I considered, at the time of purchase, to be expendable. 12 years old when bought, 21 when finally consigned to the scrap heap. Overall she had been pretty reliable (if you leave aside sucking the life out of batteries at a prodigious rate and that one time that the master brake cylinder failed, oh, and the number of fibreglass and bog patches that I had to make to the bottom of the doors), but I'd be lying if I said that she wasn't a geriatric rust bucket. Still, I didn't feel all that good about sending her to the scrap yard like that. Purchased at a particular nadir in my life (personally and career wise) she was with me up to the time that things started to pick up again.

I went without a car for a number of months until in 2002 I bought myself a sleek, white Mitsubishi Lancer coupe, the type which I had coveted for some time. Only 4 years old at the time, obviously this was the first car that I had that I didn't need to make excuses for, which looked good (and still does, even 9 years later as can be seen here) and drove well (around town at least), and which I didn't need to be embarrassed about when out on a date. The Lancer coincided with my personal renaissance over that period as well. Some things are the same now as they were then, many things are not. Same home (for now), different job, different interests (in 2002 I had an Olympus 1.3 megapixel camera and had no clue about what an f/stop was, for one instance), and in the last few months different personal life. For all the things which are not the same, and on the path between then and now with all its twists and turns, my "beast" shared the journey with me.

However cars age, and do so faster than people. 13 is a long time in car years. No ABS, no airbags, no cruise control. A cassette deck instead of a CD/MP3 player. And although an adequate performer around town, when I encountered steep hills out of town (as I regularly do now) she'd sound like she was going to blow her transmission searching for the right gear. Also, the engine sounded like it would tear itself apart on the climb. As for stopping in the rain...

But she was nonetheless a reliable car, and more importantly one which had shared an important stage of life's journey with me. Consequently my heart said "no" to upgrading, as did part of my head which said "the car looks good and is reliable, and you don't need to spend the money". The other part of my head said "And what if an accident does happen, and you're missing all of the necessary safety features. Is it really worth that? And also, do you want to really blow the transmission on those hills one day?" This debate has raged in my mind for months, but today the other part of the head won out and I bought a current year replacement. Most excellent looking, with features up the yin-yang and oh, the performance!

And yet... when the salesman asked me if I was excited about picking up my new car, my reply was "No".
"Why not?"
"Because I'm doing this out of necessity, not because I wanted to get rid of my current car. I feel like I've taken a loyal friend out into the woods and shot her in the head."

Thus, on our last morning together, I took a bit of time to take her to the car wash, then take a few shots including this one.

You can develop a relationship with a car, especially if you're not the kind of person who does the "3 year turnaround shuffle" and are instead the type who keeps a car over a significant part of their life. It's the memories more than the mere mechanics. Jay Leno never parts with any of his cars, and just builds a new building to house them when needed. But we aren't all paid as much as Jay Leno, and unfortunately we don't all have the ability to keep and house artefacts of our lives on that scale. There therefore comes a time to say goodbye... but that doesn't mean that you didn't "love the beast".