On September 30th, a Monday afternoon, I was asked to go to Publix. Instead of taking the Car of the Week, as is standard procedure, I grabbed the keys to my 2003 Toyota Celica GT. Raider, as he was named, chirped twice happily when I pressed unlock. He was saying “Hi, friend.” His engine fired immediately, despite having not been driven for nearly a month. When we arrived at the end of the street, we faced a choice: left for the quick route, right to drive along the beach. I opened the sunroof, put down the windows, and flipped the turn signal up.
This
was to be our last drive together. The next day, October 1st, I
received a phone call from my father while I was in the Atlanta airport. Someone was interested in buying Raider
and for a decent number. Months before, I’d listed Raider for sale. It hadn’t
dawned on me that he would actually sell, and especially when I wouldn’t get an
opportunity to say goodbye.
So this is my
farewell to a best friend, a loyal Celica, my first car.
January
11th, 2007 was a pretty great day. No homework was assigned, which
for junior year was a miracle. My soccer game had resulted in a 4-0 shutout,
which as a keeper means I was a spectator for most of the match. Upon arriving home, I found a lovely
bouquet of flowers from my high school sweetheart. So when my Dad asked me to
turn the light out in the garage, I didn’t even consider the strangeness of
that request. Without complaining, I walked to the garage, and cracked open the
door. To my immense surprise, the garage was not occupied by only one car as
normal…there was a second.
It
sounds cliché to say that I burst into tears and fell to my knees. But it’s
true. Good thing I was still wearing my shin guards too, because I collapsed on
the threshold to the garage, about a ten-inch drop. What sat before me was more
beautiful than the thousands I’d stared at longingly online. This one possessed sleek lines,
aggressive body paneling, and an inexplicable feeling of soul. This car had a
personality, one that shone through its headlights. It seemed to smile at me, as
if saying “Hi! You want to drive me!” I walked like a zombie over to my car. As
my fingers hesitantly grazed the polished roof above the passenger door, the
Celica chirped twice. What was merely my dad pressing unlock on the keys seemed
like a proclamation of a bond which had been formed, a friendship for years to
come.
That
night, I was only permitted to do one lap of the block, not even engaging
second gear. Dad made it very clear that while this car was mine to drive, I
would have to learn everything about it before getting miles under my belt. On
the Saturday after, I woke up bright and early to begin my education. Before
even turning it on, Dad had me take the brake off, roll it out of the
garage, and wash my new car. Once the 2-hour fluff and buff was complete, I
looked to Dad for permission. He shook his head. It was time to learn how to
change a flat tire. So, for the next hour, I used the jack that came with the
car, a pathetically small scissor jack that looked as if it couldn’t hold me
up, to change all four tires. Two at a time came off at a frustratingly slow
pace while a hydraulic jack stared
at me from the garage. When that task had been completed, I was sore and greasy
but ready to drive! Nope. Pop the hood and learn how to change the oil, add
fluids, check fluids, disconnect and reconnect the battery, change spark plugs,
and clean every nook and cranny (A note: one thing Dad didn’t show me that day
was how to change a headlight bulb, a feat I had to learn how to do on my own a
couple years later). After the engine work was complete, Dad had me use a
leather treatment on the interior. He then informed me that we needed to let
that dry and so driving the Celica would have to wait for another day. |
| Raider had the privilege of parking beside some beautiful cars. |
Raider
carried me throughout high school…literally. Together, we ventured to senior
field trip, 2 proms, countless soccer games and theater performances. Most
importantly, Raider got me to graduation.
After high school, the next place Raider would take me was college. But
he wasn’t allowed to stay.
If
you don’t know the carrying capacity of a Toyota Celica, prepare to be amazed!
For one 500 mile trip, Raider held 2 suitcases full of clothes, 3 plastic
containers, 1 lacrosse stick, 1 comforter, 2 sets of sheets, 1 laundry bin, 1
wake board and toe rope, and that’s just the big stuff. Oh, and did I mention
the front seats weren’t mashed up against the dashboard? And I still got
roughly 35mpg averaging 75mph? That’s when I learned the secret of the Celica:
Ferrari F40 exterior with a Ford Excursion interior.
I
took a picture of Raider parked in the FSU lot nearest my dorm and vowed he’d
live with me some day. Mom unpacked my room and helped me set up the TV, a
generous donation by my uncle. We found SPEED, which was showing a Grand-Am
race (at the Glen if memory serves). Quietly, she snuck out with my car keys
and took my car away. Freshman year was miserable to say the least, and I know
having my best friend there could have appeased it.
The
following year, Raider and I ventured out together on our first big road trip
alone. Safely, he took me back to Tallahassee, to a new roommate, new classes,
and with a new outlook on my new town. Tallahassee was a very different place
when I had a car to explore it. We drove down to the coast a few times, to Daytona (not for spring break but rather a HSR race) and explored
the Georgia border. All in all, we drove 4,000 miles that year…for fun!
 |
| One of our adventures that years was to Daytona International Speedway. |
But the best times I ever had with my little Celica came in Canada. Twice, he and I drove up in caravan with my parents. The first time was when I was leaving Tallahassee for good, having served my time and been promised a sheet of paper with my name on it. The night before I left was the 24 Hours of Le Mans. After staying up the whole race, my body clock was a bit skewed. When I loaded my kitten in the car, our journey toward a new life began. Raider drove on one tank of gas all the way from Tallahassee to Jacksonville (where we met up with the parental units), and continued on to South Carolina. My parents were driving an M3, which was thirstier than a frat brother on St. Patrick’s Day.
The BMW needed gas when I was only at half a tank. Part of that could have been
my drafting strategy, but that’s another tale. |
| Raider helping to launch our old boat...by posing for pictures. |
Anyhow,
once we finished the 1769-mile journey and arrived at the cottage, the true fun
began. Anyone who says the best driving in the world isn’t Peninsula Road in Muskoka,
Ontario is just wrong. That road in a Celica is a 40-mile loop of joy. Ups and downs, sharp curves, apexes
galore! The whole drive, Raider’s entire ownership, my realizing what pure
bliss behind the wheel of a car, culminated in the first trip we took. A year
later, when I didn’t really need my own car in Canada, Raider and I drove up just to tackle that road over and over
again.
 |
| My niece learning about a clutch...at age 2 |
So
now we come to the sad part of this tale. Since that last summer, Raider has
sat for the most part. His odometer increased 200 miles in the span of 6 months.
And I felt very guilty for this. Here, I owned the best car in the world. And
all he was doing was sitting. Thus, Raider was listed for sale.
I
never expected that he’d sell while I was gone. Alas, on October 1st,
Raider went to a new home. He lives somewhere down here still, to be used by
the crew of some yacht while they’re at port in Fort Lauderdale. I never imagined our drive on September
30th would culminate what has been such a meaningful and important
relationship. Raider was
stability, put a smile on my face when there had only been tears. Raider made
sure I kept traveling this road of life at a decent speed. He was the car that
brought my kitten home for the first time, the car that I sat in and cried to
when my heart was broken for the first time, the car that I wanted to have in
my garage when I’m 90. If I’d had any inkling that our final drive would’ve
been our last, I would still be driving.
A few thank yous
are in order: First, to my parents who bought Raider all those years ago. Dad,
you looked for months to find the perfect car and you succeeded. To Jaime
Galceran, who first
suggested a Celica would be my car-soulmate, and who always offered to help fix
any issue. To Rachel Somers, who tolerated a very long drive with me when
Raider’s power steering pump failed and struggled with very weak arms to
navigate the roads. To the Township of Muskoka Lakes for maintaining Peninsula
Road. Please, please can we shut it down for a day so I can just one lap at
speed? And finally, to Toyota, for building the perfect little sports car.
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