It was ironic that it should happen on Halloween, the ancient Celtic holiday of Samhain. For some, it is a day that honors those who have departed the world of the living; for others, it is a night of horrors. How wonderfully and horribly appropriate that I should realize, on this fateful day, that it was over and you were gone. I was always the one who wanted more, who tried to stretch things out past their logical expiration date — whether it was a dead-end or even non-paying job, an unhappy or even soul-killing relationship, an outmoded ideal or a package of wilting salad greens. I suppose it was the desire to stick with it, to not give up, to be loyal, to be thrifty. But sometimes loss is inevitable. Death certainly is inevitable. That spinach is well past its prime and should be thrown out. A long-held belief about oneself that makes no sense anymore must be disposed of. A long-term relationship that is no longer healthy or beneficial must end. It was time to let go.
It was an accident that you came into my life. I was driving to work, a 40 minute trip out to Framingham to a new job I was excited about. I had made the decision to pursue my dream to work in the music business, no matter what it took. I accepted an internship at an indie label called Northeastern Records, a position that would soon lead to a full time yet low paying career, and one of the most personally satisfying and fun jobs I ever had. It was a rainy morning, and I was driving down a side street near our tiny office. A woman on a perpendicular side street, stopped at a sign, either didn’t see me or misjudged my distance and darted out in front of me. I was fine, but my Nissan Sentra was totalled. Truth be told, I hated that car. It had all the exuberance of a drugged turtle and the physique of a tin can.
If you’ll recall, KITT, we first met at a Toyota dealer in Brighton, where we were both living at the time. It was love at first sight. I’d like to think you felt the same. After a failed relationship, it is difficult to trust again, but you made it easy. Serene, proud and blue, you calmed my frazzled nerves, uplifted my spirits and assured me that it would be alright. You would keep me safe. You would keep me going.
My god, all the times we shared! There were those heady early days of our life together, when the third person at the indie label quit and I was subsequently promoted to promotions director. There we were, blazing down route 9 back to Boston, my head filled with pride at having seen my name listed in Billboard’s directory of music professionals. This was it, my dear friend, we had arrived! We moved out of the dirty city to the (still rather dirty) quasi-suburbs of Somerville, where you finally had your very own driveway to sleep in. Better still when we moved to our little island, though I know the salt air (and Boston’s salted winter roads) did not agree with your metal constitution.
I always enjoyed you, whether it was during our frequent trips down to Connecticut to see my parents, or up to Newburyport and on other nature sojourns and quaint festivals all across New England. All those precious times that we had to ourselves, to discuss the events of the day and relax in private contemplation. There were our summer trips to North Truro, when that part of Cape Cod was still secluded and bohemian, our whirlwind escapades to New York City and our many trips into Boston to attend concerts and special events and meet up with friends. I remember it all so clearly as if it were yesterday!
Oh KITT, you were a steady partner and a bold adventurer, whether cruising along on a sunny and beautiful day or struggling through a near hurricane or an icy frozen blizzard. The years and hard times took its toll on you and me both, but you never let me down. Even just recently, though I could sense that you were tired, so tired, you and I took little road trips to Manhattan, upstate New York, New Jersey, Providence (and Pawtucket — what a strange little town!), Hartford, Burlington and even up to Montreal! Sharing our love for good music, what a special time we had…
So it saddens me to see you now, resting peacefully in the driveway of our seaside home, leaking enough gasoline to asphyxiate a small town, but loss and change is as inevitable as the ebbing and flowing tides of the ocean. These beautiful memories are what will endure as I say goodbye. My dear friend, my companion, your spirit lives on forever, and may your rusted and dented metal exterior rise again in its new form to begin again. I will remember you always.
“Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”
— William Shakespeare