Tercie's Final Waltz

My wife had a Toyota Tercel. I had a van. The van used too much gas, so we got a new car. Because my wife drove a lot more than me, she got the new car and I took the Tercel. Tercie Lou. My favorite car ever.

I'm 6'6". We called Tercie my car suit. I joked that if I couldn't find a parking space, I just stuck my limbs out the windows and wore it inside. If a car can have a soul and a personality, that one did. I miss it a lot.

We sold it when we moved to Cleveland because I wouldn't need a car for a couple of years. We lived right off downtown and I biked, walked or took the bus.

I loved not needing a vehicle. I hate driving. But now that we once again live in a sprawling Kansas City suburb, I wish I had Tercie Lou back.

My Ode to her, a piece of flash fiction entitled "Tercie's Final Waltz", is up at Golden Vision Magazine. Check it out.

My serotonin levels must be low, because writing this post depressed the hell out of me.

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I tried and failed to find the pictures we took to sell Tercie on Craigslist. I did find the pics we used to give away our busted old couch at that same time. Chewie just wandered into frame and got comfortable. I think because we photograph him so much he assumes he's supposed to be in all photos.