Recently a pleasant person called James came and picked up our car with his tow-truck. I left the ownership on the passenger seat, and gave him both keys. I said, “Bye-bye, car,” and went inside while he hooked it up to the truck. When I told the children the car was gone, one of them said, “Hah! Finally!” and went back to watching Olympics.
We first posted that car, a 2007 Mazda5, on various websites in January. We waited and waited, and got a few bites. The first guy wanted a car for camping, but found another one that he preferred. One couple drove up from Belleville to have a look. The woman was heavily pregnant and was reluctant to take on a car with scratches. Her husband wanted to go for it, but I know there’s no arguing with a woman close to her time. I irrationally sobbed when the bassinette skirt turned out too short when I was eight months pregnant with one of our children, and decorated the entire house for Christmas before another was born at the end of November. I sympathized, while at the same time wishing they would just buy the GD car.
Then in July the air-conditioning in the car suddenly stopped working. A car without AC would have been an even harder sell in this boiling hot Ottawa summer. We decided to give it to the pandas.
I discovered on the World Wildlife Fund site when I was looking for something else that one could donate one’s car to the WWF. The irony does not escape me. I logged on to World Wildlife Fund Canada and filled out the online form. We’ll get a tax receipt after the Mazda is auctioned. It probably won’t be for very much, but that is better than having a car in the driveway sucking up insurance money every month.
Now the driveway is open for any guests that may come by. Most of them seem to come by bike, so they can come clear up the driveway and not have to dodge the car. The cat can wriggle around wherever she wishes. I keep the garage-door opener in my bike basket and press what the children call the magic button as I draw up to the garage. I like this subversion of the suburban dream; I’m not in a car, and not in the suburbs.
I was disappointed that the WWF did not send any actual pandas to pick up my car. It would have been a nice touch to have the tow-truck driver in a panda costume.