R.I.P.

As far as vehicles go, Huey The White Whale's (a.k.a. ten passenger eye sore that wouldn't even fit in my garage) existence was short-lived. He is now probably on his way to joining the ranks of a RotoRooter fleet or happily hauling passengers to the airport. At least that is my wish for Him. It's really not his fault I always felt like I should be wearing coveralls as I drove. I always felt like I should be cleaning carpets or snaking somebody's toilet. I can't say he'll be missed. Much. Or at all. But his presence is still felt. Every single time I release the parking brake, I pop the hood. And it would be funny if there weren't so many other damned buttons and lights that have me all nervous and twitchy as I drive. There. That is something nice to say about Huey, our dearly departed. He had absolutely no bells, no whistles. He was so simple even I could drive Him. He was so big, I felt safe out on the roads. Even that one time the road should have been closed and it wasn't and it was completely flooded out and I had to back down the road through all the water being led by a teenage twerp in his Daddy's truck, and I backed over a tree and I didn't care because it was Huey. Huey could hack it. Rest in peace Huey. Mama's got a new, MUCH smaller ride.