It seems like it was just yesterday (it was 7 years ago) when I made a ridiculous decision to buy your boxy ass. I had seen you on TV and on the internet and you seemed like a perfect fit.

You had loads of space. I needed a place to carry my softball and basketball stuff!

You got ok gas mileage. I liked not spending a ton of money on gas!

And so it began. Me and you, through some of the biggest years of my life.

• You helped me move into my first solo apartment, carrying both a washer and dryer (for 25 bucks!) in your ample belly.
• You carried me and Katie on our first long car trip to a wedding in Virginia (14 hours both ways!), keeping us safe during a drug bust while we filled up in West Virginia
• You got your first scar during a crazy winter storm when I 360′d on 93N, heading home from a Celtics game. Your fender grazed the guard rail, keeping me from ending up in a much worse scenario.

  

• I never figured out where you got your second scar, a busted up front fender guard, but I’m sure it was doing something to keep me happy or safe.
• You took me to the hospital when I busted up my nose.
• You carried my niece and nephew to their first trip to the aquarium!
• You helped me move out of my last apartment and into my first home, carrying couches, chairs, whatever I could jam in you.

You’ve been there for the good and the bad, but your age is showing. I’ve had to replace your brakes a couple of times (even though I don’t drive all that aggressively). I’ve replaced your tires and your struts more than I should have had to. Your driver’s side door lock works too well–sometimes I can’t get the door open.

Finally, your AC went. It was going to cost a lot to replace it. I started looking at new cars. I couldn’t get another Element–nothing could replace the Dorkmobile.

So, I settled on a Honda Civic Hybrid. I won’t have to fill it up with gas nearly as often. My ride will be much cooler, now that the AC will work. It’ll be quieter too, as the years had caused your shocks and frame to creak and rattle a good bit. The whole environment thing.

But, I promise, I’ll be sad when I trade you in. I already am. You’re little car face will make me sad. It’ll make me sadder the first few days when I walk outside to drive to work and see my neighbor’s nearly identical Element (your cousin) sitting there. I know I’ll try to get in it once or twice.

The good news: you’re going to get fixed up. Some cosmetic surgery to fix your scars. Probably a new driver’s side seat. Some nice new parts to make your ride smooth. You’ll be a new Dorkmobile.

It’ll be a fresh start for both of us, and you’ll get a chance to make a new dorky owner happy.

Happy trails, Dorkmobile.

It’s not safe for work. And really not safe for kids.

But amazing all the same.

Cee-Lo Green (the dude from Gnarls Barkley)