Story after the jump.

This was my high school art/ yearbook teacher’s car back when life was easier. She always took really good care of it, and while it wasn’t really an enthusiast’s car, she showed it that borderline obsessive level of love we all do. It’s name is Goose, or GOOOSE if you go by the vanity plate. I remember looking at it everyday, and even going to get ice cream in it once. I remember being sad when it was semi replaced. Her husband was buying her one of two cars, but she didn’t know which one. He got the manual, and she had to learn on it. The new routine became hearing how her learning manual was going. (“I sat through 3 green lights this morning trying to get it to go!”) I never forgot Goose though.

It’s chipped, and has some parts to keep the handling to a level above that of a Kraft Single (convertible, remember). She messaged me earlier this week, simply saying “Wanna Goose?” and while I remembered it being a nice car, I couldn’t really explain the excitement I felt at my opportunity to own it. My excitement quickly faded as I thought of my own cars, which numbered at 5. I also assumed that I wouldn’t be able to afford Goose.

She explained that her and her husband were moving back to Hawaii, where she is from. They were willing to sell it to me cheap because they knew I appreciated Goose and all his blue haired charm.

So for $360, including one of his two plates for my wall, and 4 wheels, I have a 6th car. Until my younger brother turns 16. Then he’ll have one, and I can go back to 5.

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Long live the Goose.