The End of An Era

In May of 1999, on the eve of a new millenium, a young man bought a car. It was his first car for which he was solely responsible, and he walked to the dealership from his aunt and uncle's house in order to buy it.

Today he sold that car. After eight good years that encapsulated almost all of his 20's, the time finally came to let it go. Only four days passed between the time he decided to sell it and the moment that seven $100 bills were pressed into his hand while a hasty buyer swapped the plates and signed the title with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. It all happened so fast.

The first job, the broken-off engagement, the broken window and stolen stereo, the 10 hour trips to see a girl, the two-day drive to New Jersey with lampshades reaching out the windows;

Two hours on US 1, September 11, 2001. Five hours on the Goethals Bridge a week later. An hour and a half motionless on I 295 while a seminary assignment slipped away;

Back and forth on 71 Highway, day after day for three years. First sermons, first funerals, first weddings.

It all happened so fast.

Sold to the first one to see it. Sold on the last day in the office.

NPH turned 31 a month ago, but somehow it feels like his 20's just ended.