By Karen Allaire

It was late afternoon on April 14^th. I received a severe thunderstorm alert on my phone with the possibility of baseball sized hail. I was upstairs enjoying watching the sky as the storm came in from the west. It became dark as hail started to hit the ground. I’ve seen and heard hail before but not like this. This was loud and scary. I moved into an interior room and listened to it pound on the roof. When it passed, I looked out the window and saw hail balls in the yard and my neighbors inspecting their cars. What happened? I had no idea what I was about to find. I went outside and looked at my car. OMG! The front windshield was smashed in three places with dents on the hood. My neighbors’ cars had similar outcomes.

I filed an insurance claim and as a next step had my car towed to a collision and repair shop. I thought “They’ll replace the windshield. I’ll pick it up and drive it until they have time to repair the hail dents”. I got a call from the insurance company telling me the damage was estimated as a total loss. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe my car was beyond repair. Strangely I also felt a sense of relief. I’d been wondering how I’d know when it was time to get my next car. This was super clear. I noticed I felt relieved the decision had been made by the forces of nature.

My car meant a lot to me. I remember the day almost 9 years ago when I picked her up and drove away from the car dealership. I have history of naming my cars. This car was the color of the earth, a beautiful blue pearl and I named her Pearl.

In the moments before the storm when the sirens were going off, I didn’t see what was real. I couldn’t wrap my head around what hail that size could do to my car. Years ago, I converted my garage to a den. Now I park my car on the street. Parking in my neighbor’s garage was an option. It didn’t occur to me to use it until the storm was over. Feelings of guilt and shame flooded through me. This is my fault. I punished myself with judgements of being naive, stupid, and careless that I didn’t think to park in the garage to protect my car.

As I was wallowing in my guilt I got some advice from a good friend. “You did not intend for your vehicle to be hurt. You had not thought it through and said, ‘I will leave my car to the elements even though I understand there are other options’. Given an awareness of what was coming to pass and a clear understanding of how to protect your vehicle you may have chose differently. It is your nature to protect and save others. This includes your vehicle. Expecting others to let you off the hook and set you free of guilt is not the answer. Only you can set yourself free from the guilt. When I shared I grew up under a religious philosophy where others of authority absolved me from my sins and gave me a penance he said “This is to ponder on, to decide if it is constructive or destructive for you. No one can set you free including me. Power is what you can control. Freedom is about what you can unleash”.

It was a rainy morning the day I went to the collision and repair lot where my beloved car was parked. As I packed up my stuff, I noticed circles had been drawn on the hood, doors and roof where the hail created dents. I started counting the circles. When I got to 65 it began to sink in that my relationship with Pearl was over. I decided to do a ceremony to help with the healing process of appreciation and letting go. “When I met you, I was struck by your beauty. I felt safe and secure when I drove you. I didn’t want that feeling to end even when I started to see the decline, the wear and tear from the years of use. People say Subaru’s last forever or at least a very long time. Your engine and other parts will live on in a way I’m not sure I understand. Thank you for all you’ve been for me. A companion in a way few would understand. I let you go. I set us both free for what’s next. I will miss you, Pearly. I loved my time with you”.

Are machines beings? Does Pearl have a consciousness? She meant more to me than I realized. I contemplated the idea that my car became an extension of me. It may be unique that I formed an attachment to a car, but my sense is all human beings have attachments. Like the boy in Margery Williams’ children’s book The Velveteen Rabbit who made his stuffed rabbit real through love, I made Pearl real. I can think of countless times I said out loud “I love my car!” After pondering this I had to remind myself that while Pearl is not a sentient being, she does appreciate the love and care I gave her as I drove her. Now she is ready to be recycled. Ready for what’s next.

Reference  Williams, M. (2004). The velveteen rabbit. Egmont Books