A Tale of Two 1996 Chevy Camaros - Stuff Doesn't Matter

Over the last six years my wife and I had bought two, almost identical, red, 1996 Chevrolet Camaro's for our sons to use and last week a gentleman named Jim took the remaining one off our hands. There were a number of "little" and not so little problems with it and it's relative unreliability had worn out my ability to see past all of its intrinsic faults and foibles. Still, seeing it go was bittersweet as it closed the car door on a big part of my life as a father. After all, isn't buying cool first cars for our kids what "car guys" like me are supposed to do? Seeing a nice wad of bills in an envelope, though, helped dissuade any feeling of melancholy I had quite quickly.

That it was an "Arizona" car with absolutely no rust was the driving force behind Jim wanting it to replace the '99 Camaro he had with "only" 198,000 miles on its clock but whose frame had rusted out beyond repair. That and that our car had a mere 81,000 or so miles on it helped seal the deal. I tip my ball cap to Jim since he, like myself, can see past the flinty, truck like ride and handling, god awful seats and cheap, junky interiors of these cars and loves them for what they are and not despise them for what they're not. Trust me, one doesn't replace one of these cars with another one if you don't love them.

Learning to let go both physically and emotionally of stuff in general but particularly of our sons is one of the toughest things that I've had to experience as a parent. I've learned that our children grow up, our roles in their lives change and we stand a better chance of holding onto the wind if we think holding onto their baby shoes, cribs, toys, their first cars or whatever, is going to help us hold onto them as they were. It's a good thing my wife is way, way less sentimental than I am otherwise we'd be over our heads with their "stuff". And, really, what's the point of that? I've also learned that the idea of their "stuff" is far better than their actual stuff. Takes us much less room in the garage, attic and basement too.

With that, I said goodbye to our "second" 1996 Chevrolet Camaro. While it took me a couple of days to get over it, silly as it may sound to those who are less sentimental than I am, once I did, I felt empowered by freeing myself of the physical constraints of the past, fear of change and of the future. I also felt renewed and hopeful as selling that car will help to open a new chapter for our son as he's planning to use what we got for it as part of a down payment on, bless his heart, a late model Camaro.

Honestly, I could care less what he gets as long as he's happy. However, here I go again, I know I'll have an instant and deep emotional bond with it because it be forever the "first car he bought for himself".