Goodbye Letter

Dear Ford Windstar,

It is with great sadness that I write this but after 10 years, I think it's time we move on. The rust, the ratting sounds, the heat not working, the rust, the garbage all over the floor, the gas-guzzling. It's just...I need something...newer. I hope you'll understand.

I've never told you this, but you weren't my first ride. Yes, before I started to drive you, there was another...a Green Aerostar. But it had nothing on you, trust me. Besides, I was only a passenger before it was totaled in a ditch. And then, well, there was a Blue Windstar, but that was just a rebound. There were two trucks and a car, too. But of all the vehicles I drove, you were the best.

We sure did share some great memories, didn't we? Remember the day you earned the nickname, Silver Bullet? When you and I raced out to Wheatley Harbour to see a red-morph Ruff in Muddy Creek? We never did top the speed we clocked in at that day. Birders watching our approach said they could hear the sonic boom when we broke the sound barrier.

Then there were all those weekends during highschool where we cruised around Leamington for hours with nothing to do. Oh yeah, those were the days. We were so cool...

Or in the later years when we gave people rides and they had to stand in the back because the seats were out and the floor was covered in sheep manure? Oh yes, you were a farm van, shamelessly, through and through. 

And the lifers! California Gull, Sabine's Gull, Neotropic Cormorant, Spotted Towhee, Great Gray Owl, Ross's Goose, Bell's Vireo. You drove me to all of them. You were dependable to the end...even this fall when I thought every drive was our last.

On that note, I must apologize for what I put you through this last month. It's my fault that you're finally being retired. I thought for sure you could make it up the incline at the end of Concession E....but I should have listened when you were struggling instead of impatiently pumping my boot on the gas. I just really wanted to see a Buff-breasted Sandpiper. Once that muffler came loose, you were never the same. Now you sound like a ticking time bomb and I have to admit, I'm a bit afraid to be close to you when you're turned on.

This morning you gave me my last ride. I didn't see any lifers, no Pelee birds, no year birds, but I still had a great time. By Thursday, you will be dismantled and your parts sold separately. Much of you will be scrapped. However, I'll always have our last bird sighting together, a flock of Horned Larks while I turned into my lane.

It seems fitting that on our last drive together, it rained the entire time.

Goodbye, Silver Bullet.