You're my girl, blue!

After 10 years and 107,000 miles of memories, my girl blue died peacefully amongst her commuting friends of Thousand Oaks..

..in the middle of the road..

..during morning rush hour..

Okay, I may have freaked out more than I have ever freaked out in my life, as I sat in my car near the center divide frantically phoning my husband at work asking him what the (bleep) I should do.

So calm, cool and collected ( love his style), he walked me through opening the car door, getting out and crossing traffic to the nearby gas station where I was to ask for help. After getting turned down by the first two guys I asked to help me, two men whose mothers I'd like to thank for teaching them chilvalry, ran to my rescue and pushed my car to safety.

We had her towed to the mechanic, who called NZ with the grim news.

She was dead on arrival.

Timing belt went and engine was screwed up. The damage? More than she was worth.

So, we're sending her to scrapyard Heaven, where her parts will be donated to other little VW's in need. Perhaps her radiator will live on and give new life to another ailing jetta. One can hope, right?

My girl blue and I have had an up and down relationship since we first met. There have been times I have resented her, times I have loved her zippiness, and so many memories of hot leather seats in the Davis heat ( 110 degrees, and black leather anyone?), driving down the 101 with my sunroof open to soak up the random 80 degree December days, and even some nights spent pulling over on the causeway for drunken buddies to call the dinosaurs.

Even though we may be bringing a new car home soon, I have to say in "Old School" fashion,

"You're my girl, blue!"