Tonight, some guy and his wife took off down the driveway with the G20. After 10 years, the G20 is gone.The car, which was 13 years old, had its share of issues during the time I had owned it. Even though it rode well and still looked good, you couldn't turn on the air conditioning and try accelerating up hills. The car - a 4-cylinder - just couldn't get out of its own way. The muffler has been presenting problems for at least a year - it falls off its supports and bounces around on the chassis when you hit a bad bump.
I remember a ride home from Tanglewood after it had rained. This was the first I knew of an electrical problem with the car. Somehow wires got wet, or moist, under the hood and the car drove erratically from the grassy, muddy parking lot, down the Mass Pike, 91 and finally, home. It buckled, and dashboard lights flashed, threatening to stall during the 90 minute trek home.
But despite these problems, the car was a joy to drive. It had a good stock sound system. The driving position was excellent. And it handled well.
I fell into a deal for another car, a 2000 Acura TL, that I could not pass up. Thus, the Infiniti needed to be sold. We listed the car on Craigslist for 4 days, and the first person who came to look at the car bought it.
I tend to get all nostalgic about things like this. When we sold our Wethersfield home, I was briefly kind of sad. We only owned it for a year and a half. But we lived there. In a sense, I lived in the G20. Cups, tennis rackets, balls, food wrappers, loose change, caseless CDs, gum - it was all in there. I think cars are an extension of one's personality, and the G20 was for me.
It took me a day and a half to clean the car. The trunk needed to be vacummed three times because the bucket of sand the I spread on the driveway in the winter tipped over and dumped its contents into the spare tire wheel well. But I cleaned up the leather seats, Armor-alled the dashboard and the doors and center console, vacummed the interior, and it looked pretty good. Except for a few tears in the leather seats, the car was cleaned up nice.
It was bittersweet washing the G20 for the last time yesterday, starting it for the last time tonight, taking it for its final ride on Route 2 yesterday, but it's time had come. When it rolled down the driveway tonight, with its familiar hum and assortment of rattles, I watched the new owner apply the brake lights as she turned past the hemlocks and pull up the hill toward Route 2.
I hope she didn't use the air conditioner.
