I don’t remember where I was when my car’s odometer went past 10,000 and it bothers me. When I bought the car it had just over a thousand miles on it, and as I was driving it the over fifty miles home I remember thinking that I would never get those miles back, and I didn’t know when the next time I would be able to get a new and not just new to me car would be so I should cherish the miles as they went.
When the car crossed 30,000 miles my brother and I were driving down the Overseas Highway to visit my sister at camp. Our mom had already gone down; still struggling three years later with the loss of our father.
When the car crossed 60,000 miles I was driving to work at a middle school on one of the coldest days of the year in my small central Florida town. I remember thinking it was fitting being my first winter out on my own that my baby would have a milestone.
When my car passed 90,000 miles I was on my way to Graduate School. I only had one class left after the next semester and I would finally get to graduate, a year behind my cohort. I remember being sad and a little lonely since most of the new friends I had made were already back in their home states, and how this new northern state was my home now.
This morning on my way into work, a 23 mile commute each way if I can take the ‘shortcuts’, my car crossed 100,000 miles and currently sits in the parking lot at 100,010. I love my job now so much more than I ever loved being a classroom teacher, but has it all been worth it? Driving more than 10,000 miles in 7 months and that’s being a conservative driver? My student loans? Moving away from friends and family?
It’s another milestone that my car has measured for me.