Nearly one hundred and fifty thousand kilometres; all but about 500 of which I spent in the driver's seat.
Trips to the muggy coast of Florida, a dustbowl in south-central Tennessee, a wicked-awesome weekend in Baaaahstin ("Baaah Haaaabaah!"), the manic streets of Montreal and a frigid New Year's in Thunder Bay, and more of the 401 than any human should be subjected to.
One headgasket and water pump. Two new sets of tires, two new sets of breaks, one tail light. Twenty-nine-ish oil changes. One passenger-side window-raising mechanism, from the time in the winter of 2000-01 that some idiot broke into my car by stripping the gears inside said mechanism (but miraculously not breaking the glass). One engine coolant hose, still leaking a bit, hopefully fixed by Wednesday.
Many fast-food meals, countless cups of Tim Hortons coffee, and a six-foot hoagie that went bad and made me so sick I couldn't go to Duff Gardens.*
About a dozen parking tickets, exactly one speeding ticket, and the time in my first year in Toronto when I bent my licence plate slightly on the rear bumper of a Grand Am on Eglinton just west of Kennedy.
Four different places I've called home.
And on Saturday, if all goes to plan, it will no longer be mine.
* This may or may not have been Homer Simpson.