driving away
In May of the year 2000, I purchased a red 1975 MG from a man in Moscow Idaho.

16 years and one month later, I sold the same 1975 MG, to a family in Moscow Idaho.

In those 16 years, I drove her just over 50000 miles, rebuilt most of her mechanicals, repainted her, and enjoyed life with the roof down. But while not all good things must end, my time with her was coming to a close. I’ll miss the simplicity of an old British car, and I would by lying if I wasn’t sad to see her drive away. But she’s going to a good home and I still have a proper sports car to drive.

Tonight though, I’ll sit quietly and drink a dram of Octomore while I reflect on 16 years of memories. This was the car that took my brother and I to a family reunion on Whidbey Island. It took me to my brother’s first mountain bike race. It took me down Highway 1 in California. The car might have moved on to make new memories with somebody else, but it my memories with it get to stay with me.

Tomorrow, I can start making more memories, now with a car made in Hiroshima rather than Abington on Thames.