Bye bye, little car

Yes, my little car was sold today.
My white, 3-door hatchback, Honda Civic with the blue nozzle lights and the flashing stereo, which glowed orange in the dark and flashed pictures of me and my friends on its display was sold today and driven up to the north in some strange town with a strange boy-owner.

I hardly expected it to happen so fast, and when it did, I surprised even myself, at the extent of which I felt for an object which essentially was an assembly of pieces of metal. And I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, or look at it longingly while it drove off into the darkness.

I wish I thought about it more, when I left. Maybe I would have looked at it over and over again, reminisce, give a sigh and then when I was finally sure I'd taken enough of it in, I'd be able to let go.

It's weird thinking I won't set eyes on it again. In fact, I left it with an assured conviction I'd see it again the next week that I didn't even think of it otherwise. In the back of my mind, it was always going to be there.

It's such a silly example of what you don't realize you have, until you don't have it.
Or maybe it's just me being unnecessarily sentimental, or maybe it's just another manifestation of some inexpressible, explicit sadness lurking in the depths.

I've been through so much, and been to so many places with it. If cars could talk, boy would it tell stories.

But what am I saying... it's only a car....

right?

I'm really going to miss it.