I just wanted to start this spiel by saying how incredibly sorry I am for everything that I had ever done to you. I was the complete opposite of polite. I left closets (this may seem like a bit of an exaggeration, but I assure you that it is not) of my clothing and shoes in your backseat. I left my stinky soccer cleats strewn wherever space was available, and this probably wasn't a great idea for any of the parties involved. I'm also really sorry for leaving 4 unreturned library books in your trunk for who knows how long (I promise I'm responsible, really) along with several unworn hoodies, a pair of boots, and a crowbar (If anything, I'm always prepared!) I'm sure you loved when I bit you adieu, and my brother inherited the car from me.
Nevertheless, you are the car that I grew up in. And as much as I wouldn't have cared to admit it back then, I was fully in love with your peeling gold paint, and your surprisingly bumpin' stereo. Every time I see a 1998 Nissan Maxima driving down the road, I envy how awesome their stereo system probably is.
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Unfortunately, despite my unsaid love for you (I really should have expressed it more, maybe taken you to more car washes?) I absolutely beat the sh*t out of you. I remember when you and I were in our first car accident, and I refused to tell my parents about how severely I had damaged you. I'm definitely sorry I drove you around with a bent front axle for two days. I've had finer moments. For sure. Being that this was your first accident, you bounced back quickly, and we continued our "cruising around town."
Literally a month later, you and I were in our second accident in the high school parking lot. And not only was it the lamest accident ever (you were a total rockstar and came out completely unscathed, though. Props.) but it was definitely the most dramatic. Just days after the "Great Parking Lot Debacle of 2012" you and I were in our most severe ever crash ever.
I cried when the body shop repairman told me that you were totaled. It literally felt like my life was ending. I couldn't possibly be expected to drive something else. I loved you. But yet again, you showed your true colors and somehow came out of that accident still running. You definitely had a collection of new dents, but if I'm being honest, I was just glad your sunroof was still fully operational.
The year following my high school graduation, you and I had the most fun ever. We went on many camping trips, got stuck on a few muddy roads (please don't tell my Dad..) and I became a bit of a better driver.
Accident number four was definitely something else. You lost your bumper, your front grill, and a few headlights. I'm also sorry you have to drive around with a mismatched front bumper. At least it's functional, though, right?
You and I had many adventures and many, many mishaps, but I will forever compare every other car out there to how you drove. Your brake pressure is seriously unwarranted, and your heater never once failed me. Your gas mileage could definitely use some improvement, though. Thank you, dearest Nissan ( I wish I had given you a proper name) for being the most unreliably reliable car ever. You treated me well.
