A crushing goodbye

In memoriam: Op/Ed Editor Brian Sheridan’s car

More stories from Brian Sheridan


Photo by Brian Sheridan

The tragic aftermath of Sheridan’s car from the accident over the weekend that left it beyond repair.

I have a habit of getting attached to inanimate objects, but the bond I had with my car was special.

First of all, I don’t know anything about cars. I drove a 2003 Ford Focus and as far as I was concerned, that was the car I was going to drive for the next 20 years. Nothing was really wrong with it. It gathered some dings and mileage over the years but other than that, it was everything I could want in a car.

But over this past weekend, my sweet 16 car was swiftly taken away from me. After parking it on the side of the road outside a friend’s house, I heard the screeching of tires and a loud crash. I looked out the window and saw a car had crashed on the side of the road. I ran outside to find my car completely totaled.

The driver was fine. He walked away from it completely unscathed, but I don’t think his car was going to run again judging by some damage to his front, passenger-side tire. My car, however, was obliterated. He managed to take off both my front and back bumper (still trying to process how that happened), snap my back axle in half and turn a tire sideways.

Police said he wasn’t drunk or intoxicated but the guy told them he was sleep-deprived and on his phone. Mini side note before I talk more about my car: If you ever go all night without sleeping and then decide to drive, you are a complete moron. It’s as simple as that. As someone who has crashed their car before due to lack of sleep, I am a strong advocate for alert driving.

Mini rant over.

I really loved that car. It was the first and only car I’ve ever had. I’ve shared more life experiences with that car than I have with most of my friends.

It was the car I drove when I went on my first date. It was the car I took on adventures to ice cream places, to try fishing for the first time, to go on joy rides through the country, to visit friends hours away and to traverse the colorful places of Wisconsin.

We were even together through all the hardships. We survived fender bender number one, two and three; we survived fish-tailing off the highway because I fell asleep and we survived in The Middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin when my tire started smoking and I ended up sitting with my girlfriend for seven hours at a bar called Nutz Deep II.

That car heard pretty much every song I’ve ever sang in my life, and it never even complained once. Plus it was gracious enough to let me know when I left my lights on so I made sure to say thanks every time before I got out for nearly five years.

It’s hard to even think about getting another car, partly because I miss my old one too much and partly because cars are astronomically expensive and their price tags make me sad. Luckily I have my step brother’s car to borrow for the time being but he’ll probably want it back soon.

I never even named it, but I know I loved it. It probably had a really cool name given to it by the grace of the car gods, like Jim or something.

Jim, no matter what junk yard you’re in now, I still love you. Hope you’re going fast on the great highway in the sky.