Leaving the Car

We should have cleaned her up
a bit more before the trade in
our long white estate car
veteran of long trips across borders
seven countries in seventeen days one time
repairs on her radiator didn’t want to hold
discovering pink fluid on the driveway
is never good, but especially when
heading out for Christmas lunch.
At the garage, handing over her keys
I spotted green moss in the window grooves
door pockets still holding old parking receipts
and smelt a whiff of yesterdays manure transport
felt ashamed of leaving the old steed in that way.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

13 thoughts on “Leaving the Car

      1. Oh yes! I never named my cars, but my sister and her family named their cars. The two I remember are Martha the Mitsubishi, and Brave John Boswell who died on our brother’s front lawn, three hours’ drive from home. They had to get the long distance bus back home, and borrow money from our very unfriendly father for a replacement. No one else could help them. Such is the history of families.

        Liked by 1 person

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