When an old friend dies

Personally, I really hate change especially when everything

seems okay to begin with. I like keeping my old things because
they are familiar and comfortable to me. I ain't a picky woman.
Long as it works, I'll use it.

For example, Dolores.
My car. Not the most attractive beast on the road, but she and I
were one, full of memories and loyalty.

Now, I think in America there is an image issue, boiling down to
you are what you drive. Look at your car, and there you are.
Dolores was my car. She was cheap to keep around. Fun to look at.
Had her own personality (she would hum at the intersections.)
Hated the speed limits, mostly because her speedometer never worked.
And would sing only if she felt like it, or if you hit the dash just right.

What I really want out of transportation is feeling
rather thanan image.

Dolores got me through college.
She was there when I left ma and pa and met the new roommates.
(It was winter and we didn't scrape off the ice, just hung our heads out
the window to the grocery store.)
She was okay being loaded down with snowboarding gear and anxious
young people, and did her best up the mountain passes. She went on many
late night drives to Jack in the Box and Mickey D's. She got dirty in the
summer when we were all too busy with harvest to worry about cleaning
her. She got wet with soaking bodies coming out of the canal and
loved going fast down empty dirt roads at home. She snuck around at
night when all her passengers went on revenge trips with toilet paper.
She had more than people put in her: dogs, cats, a few calves, and once we
lost a turtle for a day. She knew how to look stylish while cruising.

She had an attitude, but she always got me home safe.
And that to me is transportation in the highest form.

R.I.P. Dolores
August 2010
You will be missed.

The "new" car doesn't have a name yet.
Any suggestions?
(We really can't bond unless I know her name.)