One of the hardest things for me to leave behind during our move was my beloved car, my trusty steed of the past six years. True to the Honda brand, the car was very low maintenance, highly reliable and ran like a charm. Considering that I tend to view cars primarily as a means to transport me from place A to place B without any hassle, this car had been my almost perfect dream car. So ya, having to sell it was a major downer.
Our ad on Craigslist evoked several responses. As luck would have it, we zeroed in on a Tamil buyer. This acted as a palliative in several ways: a) Somehow, the buyer being Tamilian assured us that the car would be taken care of well (this is regionalism - but delusions are comforting). b) My car is already familiar with Tamil being spoken in it (I can be weird that way). c) I had a slightly higher chance of visiting the car if I made a visit to the US.
Soon we found that the buyer, K, was a first time car-buyer in the US. He was also younger than us by a few years. Both these facts put S and me in the the position of advisers. K, a nice chap, was only too eager to lap up any and all the advice thrown his way. So we gave him gyan on maintenance, tires and insurance. I had deja-vu as K asked many of the same questions that I had had when buying my car. In turn, K let us have the car right until the day before we left.
The last time I drove the car was a couple of hours before K arrived to pick it up.
As I turned off the engine for the last time, I literally kissed the car good bye and patted it for its faithful service of all these years.
When K showed up, we handed all the car-keys and the maintenance records to him. Both S and me assured him that he would have a ton of fun with the car. We then threw a barrage of information at him: how to adjust the mirrors, how to get to the expressway, how to drive safe and so on. K dutifully nodded his head.
Finally, he reversed the car, made a right turn and the car disappeared from view. As we walked back to our apartment, I told S that perhaps we had thrown a wee too much advice at K. I was beginning to feel like we were K's surrogate parents. S laughed and protested.
After 20 minutes, the phone rang. It was K. S and I anxiously looked at each other and exclaimed "Oh no, I hope K did not get into any trouble.". S answered the phone. He spoke to K and after he hung up, S looked at me and burst out laughing.
Apparently K had called to say that he had reached home safe and sound. Ha - so K had felt our surrogate-parenty concern enough to let us know of his safe arrival! I *knew* it!