This is, of course, a difficult letter for me to write. It's been three days since we last saw each other, and the vision of your obvious dejection has been pulsing through my head since I drove off the dealership.
I wish that I could tell you that this decision was not about you, but dear Crayola, it was. For four years I stood by you while you were in and out of mechanic shops, sputtering and stalling on the street, and obstinantly refusing to go on. I was there, Cray, because we were in this together. But I just can't do it anymore.
I wanted to take some time after our split, figure out what I really wanted in a vehicle. But a shiny silver Solara came into my life unexpectedly, and I wasn't strong enough to say no. It breaks my heart that you had to watch us drive off together, but I hope that you would wish us the best, as I wish for you in your next 100,000 miles.
We must move on, Crayola, but I will never forget you and the times we had together. Just as my initial remains embroidered in your headrest, your memory will linger in my heart and inevitably in my credit card statements.
Take time, Crayola. Get healthy. Become what some high school junior has always dreamed of in a car. I leave you with a full heart, but hope you understand that there is only room in my life for one prima donna.
Love always,
Kristen
P.S. I hope this isn't salt in an open wound.... but look how pretty she is....
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