Rocky was my car. My parents bought him brand-new when I was a junior in high school, and my then-five-year-old sister chose his name. I have no idea where the name Rocky came from. About four years ago, I bought him from my parents. Since he's been in the family for so long I feel like I'm losing an old friend. It'll be a good thing, though; I've been anxious for an upgrade for a while now -- something with fewer miles that needs a little less TLC. Still, I feel like my security blanket is gone. I'm venturing out into the frightening realm of used car shopping, with nothing to fall back on.
I'm also walking to work today.
Oh, Rocky ... How we shall miss thy red-hot spunkiness.
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