One Story at a Time #10: A Letter To My Durango

Dear Durango,

I found you at a turning point in my life. I moved to Georgia, with no family, friends, or job; set on a new adventure with my 12 year old son by my side. Two weeks after moving there, I landed a pretty good job, which led me to be able to come and find you. You didn’t have a whole lot of miles, you were practically a new car, which was a first for me. I chose you for a few reasons: you were in my price range, you were beautiful dark blue, and most importantly, my now 13-year old son was already around 6 feet tall and we needed some space!

You became more than a car. You became our moving living room, our safe place, and sometimes even my therapy session on wheels. Countless conversations filled your seats. I know my son probably felt “trapped” at times, but I loved those talks. He learned to drive in you — with me setting up cones in empty parking lots until he got the hang of it.

You wore your own stories too: the baseball-sized dent from a foul ball at his game, the power windows that eventually gave up (and the trash bags I used to cover them), and all the miles of laughter, worry, and everyday life you carried.

After 11 years, I finally traded you in for the Dodge Charger I had always wanted. Cooler, faster, and yes, even a little more expensive. But no car will ever hold the same chapter of my life that you did. This car hasn’t even seen my son much, so it definitely doesn’t feel the same as you did. You weren’t just transportation. You were a witness to the years I was figuring out motherhood, independence, and resilience all at once.

Thank you for keeping us safe and always getting us from A to B, sometimes to C, too.

Love,
Kari