It was a cold morning. The wind was nippy against my old metal doors, it was. The winter is coming, I tell you. All my hinges are squeeking louder. It's getting harder to move my old metal body the way I used to.
My new owners are neat. They like to warm me up before we go, they do. Their little toddler always sleeping in the back on my comfortable 35 year old seats.
However, this morning they seemed to be in a hurry. They didn't wait for me to stretch first. Oh, my poor wheels turned. Oh, my old body hurt. I would stop every now and then, to catch my breath, but they would keep on pushing.
The road was very bumpy. It might be my old hips. Although, I'm pretty sure the young 'uns would bounce on these brittle roads too, they would.
I pull into the Missus' yard, but she waits. You see, the Mister needs to open the door for her. When they got me, I saw how he was raised. I quickly fixed that, I did. The first time the Missus tried to open her own car door, it broke. Now the Mister has no choice but to be chivalrous.
She waited patiently and she carried the lil'un inside, wrapping him in a warm blanket.
It wasn't very long, before the Mister had to turn me around to go home. I don't do the backwards thing any more. You see, my body ain't what it used to be. All these creaks and cracks, no way the Mister can make me go backwards. So, he turns me around, or sometimes he'll push.
The Mister is never happy to leave his family here. His sadness heavies my load. Getting back to the Misters house is almost like climbing a mountain.
This morning, the sun was still peaking over the horizon. My parts not quite yet warmed up still, but as usual, I make the trip.
As he pulls me into his yard, the last thing I think before he puts me to sleep is:
"I sure hope I start up the next time I'm needed."
It sure does feel great for an old ladies spirit, you know. To feel wanted. To feel needed. To be of use.
