Trusty was a trooper. My sister Beatrice who, with her partner John, bequeathed us Trusty several years ago, always maintained the Trusty had the quietest, most dependable engine of any car she'd known. He always started, he ran smoothly and comfortably and had provided them with years of reliable transportation. They, in turn, took good care of Trusty and kept him running like the proverbial top. His only downfall was the inconvenient fact that people seemed to like backing into him, leaving Trusty with a curiously dented driver's side. His passenger side was unblemished. You will remark on the steel straps holding Trusty's headlight in place; Bob rigged this after we inherited him. I think Trusty viewed it sort of like an eye patch: it lent him a rakish, devil-may-care air.
(Oh and someone stole my WTF sticker off his bumper. Really!!?? Of all the nerve!) Trusty came to us and seemed to enjoy the change. He experienced new adventures he could never have dreamed of: transporting artwork and hay bales and an amazing assortment of plants. He always performed whatever automotive task was asked of him with good grace and humor. He did have a surprisingly impish sense of fun and was quite the joker. Beatrice had warned me that the radio was "unpredictable" and that his doors locked and unlocked with a random impertinence. He continued this practice until the day he departed.
Despite being warned by Beatrice and John's mechanic to, "Not drive to Atlantic City" (I guess he meant don't gamble or take chances...) we drove Trusty for almost four years, with only minor troubles. We recently took Trusty to Massachusetts to a friend's memorial and he performed beautifully, humming along the highway as if he'd rolled off the Honda production line yesterday. Many mechanics and auto parts salespeople attempted to buy him, remarking on just what great cars these older Accords were. But put a price on Trusty... never!
But time caught up with Trusty and his timing belt proved to be his down fall. He got us home, rolling into the driveway, delivering us safely before expiring in a billow of black smoke. As I laid a hand on his front fender one last time, I bowed my head and whispered, "Farewell Trusty! You were a good car!"
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