• Lara Flanagan

Farewell little Ruby

Updated: Feb 27


I sold Ruby yesterday and was quite sad to see her being driven away.  She was such a good little car.  She was bought when the kids and I were living in Paradise Point on the Gold Coast and I am not sure she had any idea of what was in store for her.   Maybe a few little zippy trips around the Gold Coast, ferrying the kids to kindy and driving me to work.    Instead she ended up a little red beast in the country, chewing up countless highway kilometres, and being used to transport growing twins, two feral dogs, an endless amount of cakes and at times enough stuff for a market stall.


I bought her literally a month or so after my marriage broke down and my existing car at the time decided that it was time for the engine to pack it in.  Perfect timing really, what every newly separated single mum needs; a car that decides to die.  So Ruby really marked the start of a period in my life which has seen so much extraordinary change and her departure marks the end of this period and the start of another.  Such a special little car.

It also makes me realise that sometimes, when trying something new you have to say goodbye to some things in your life.  Goodbyes can at times be hard, they can be bittersweet, they can be fare-forward rather than farewell and they can evoke a million different memories.


Saying goodbye to Ruby made me remember my first time I came to Tenterfield to check out the big old Historic Stannum House and help them with a function.  Who was to ever guess that 6 or so weeks later I would have packed up my house, resigned from my job and packed myself and my 4-year-old twins into the back of Ruby for a life in the country.


Ruby was my constant when I was visiting those doctors that I affectionately refer to as the brains trust.   Neuros who as far as I am concerned would not have known their arses from their elbows.  She was my constant for the hours after these visits which usually involved emotional mutterings, much weeping and copious cursing at the sheer stupidity of people who could rip your heart out with a spoon.  Then she was also there as I went from strength to strength in discovering the joys of a doctor who actually knew what he was talking about and filled me with hope and ultimately his teachings would change my life.


She has seen my 4-year-old babies grown into little people with sass, attitude and amazing hearts.  She has taken the five of us on countless walks and subsequently been with us as I chased autumn leaves, spring blossoms, mornings mists, country roads and windmills.  Always chasing windmills.


And now she leaves me, enabling me to better finance the next big adventure of my life.   With Ruby gone I can now pay for Vaccinations, the final flights to Costa Rica and also the bloody water heater.  Ruby made so much possible, always reliable and always tough – a bloody brilliant little lego car.


Ruby will be missed.   Not sure that I like these ongoing farewells.  First my flock, then my little cottage and now little Ruby.  I think though, that sometimes, to say hello to new things you need to say goodbye.

 

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