Our societal reliance on automobiles is by no means a great thing, but an interesting side-effect in some cases are the attachments we develop to these animate objects. I feel like these thoughts and feelings are like energy - is it possible they go someplace?
I hate buying vehicles - I don't feel I have the power or even inclination to negotiate effectively and as a result I probably paid too much for a two-year-old, high-mileage vehicle in 2012. But our 2002 Taurus wagon was getting long in the tooth and the transmission a little sloppy, so rather than take it over the mountains in December to visit my mum in Osoyoos, we traded it in for a 2010 Ford Flex with spotty paint on the hood and 72,000 klicks on it already. It ended up being the best vehicle we ever owned.
Part of that quality was in the reliability - outside of wear and tear items like brakes and shocks, it never needed any sort of real mechanical work until it had over a quarter million km on the clock, and precious little even after that.
The Flex was also renowned for its interios space, seating seven (if a couple of them were petite. It also had an enormous cargo capacity, one time allowing us to move a thre-person sofa from Leon's to home (with the driver's seat pushed up uncomfortably close to he steerig wheel but still...
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| G&G 2016 |
My affection for the Flex far transcended its steadfast nature or the fact it was a smart purchase. The bulk of the mileage may have been the 35 km commute for eight years, but that rig took us the four of us (and two different dogs) to so many places, starting with Waterton National Park and Going-to-the-Sun Road in 2014.
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| Going to the Sun Road 2014 |
| Vancouver Island Road Trip 2015 |
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| Kootenay National Park 2017 |
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| Glory's 18th Covid Birthday 2020 |
And not enough pictures were taken inside of the Flex, where a comfortable second row bench seat accommodated both kids watching musicals on long road trips, and grownups wanting to sleep, read, or even have a beer while watching the scenery.
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| To Thompson MB 2013 |
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| Going to the Sun Road 2014 |
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| Glacier NP 2014 |
Suffice to say, the Flex has been our trusted steed and what feels like our boon companion for some time now - more than half of Fenya's life, as it turns out!
But all good things must come to an end, and it has been five years now since we passed this milestone while driving to Jasper.
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| September 2021, outside Edson |
We ordered a replacement vehicle in January of '24, and the 'Lander finally arrived on Easter of '25. Fenya has been driving the Flex since then, and I sold it to her in February of this year so she could eventually sell it for a decent commuter ride. A couple months after that, the terminal diagnosis arrived: oil and coolant leakages, costing a prohibitive amount to repair.
Fenya continued to drive it cautiously, palliatively perhaps, until she replaced it with a 2015 Escape a couple of weeks ago. Unwilling to endure the nuisance and tire-kickers that a private sale would require, she ended up calling Pick n Pull who were willing to pay a modest amount. They arrived to tow it away last Tuesday.
We watched from the living room window as the unlit taillights receded from view for the final time, and Fenya said, "Is it weird that I feel a little sad to see it go?"
I shook my head. "Not at all," I said. "That car was a big part of our lives for 14 years. It took you to school and choir and dance, carried us all to Thompson or Hudson Bay on our way to Churchill maybe a dozen times, towed the trailer out to our campsites every summer, including a big trip to Vancouver Island...It never let us down, never stranded us, got us and sometimes lots of stuff to where we were going without fail."
"I think it is natural for us to have some affections for things that serve us so well for so long. And just because we know rationally that the Flex doens't have a mind or spirit or soul, deosn't mean that all those feelings we attached to you it over so many years are without significance."
She nodded. "I feel more like I am saying goodbye to family pet or something."
"I know!" I replied. "Like we are telling ourselves the Flex is going to live on a farm or something, like a horse being ut out to pasture..."
And as much as I would have loved to find a family with kids who needed something to get them to school and who knew a mechanic who could keep it running for a while, there was no chance of doing that in a timely fashion. Having the parts go to keep other cars on the road a little longer feels like the best alternative; more like an organ donation and less like a horse being put out to pasture, or other outcomes.
But at the same time, all those thoughts, those memories, that simply preposterous affection for an almalgamation of metal, plastic and wires - where do they go?
I don't even know how I feel about a possible afterlife for humans, let alone automobiles, but a part of me hopes that the Flex is remembered for a while, for its faithful service and the journeys and adventures it facilitated. That somewhere beyond the finite, those thoughts and feelings aglomerate and take on some sort of substance extraneous to we who constructed them.
If there is a Wheelhalla, I hope our Flex is there, honoured and celebrated as it is truly due. Perhaps it can meet the cars of my ancestors, like the TravelAll that brought us to Alberta when I was six, or my father's Ford Falcon from before I was born.
Ah, it's a nonsensical idea. But I tell you with only a small degree of embarassment that when I walked Canéla on Tuesday morning before the tow truck arrived, I made sure we passed the Flex and I patted its hood and I said aloud, "thanks, and Godspeed."

















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