The end of an era

Dad finally sold off the old Malibu Classic, affectionately known round these parts as "the Boat". I was sad to see it go, as I can scarcely remember a time Dad did not own that car - the thing was almost as old as me. That car is a large part of my childhood, with some of the strongest memories of my youth linked to it. Memories of trips up to the Okanogan in scorching valley heat, back windows permanently sealed, mom unwilling to open her window fully lest the wind muss her hair too much, my sister and I gasping for air through the teeny triangular windows in the back. Riding around the city with dad and mom, listening to the hockey games, the voice of Jim Robson almost as familiar to me as my own father's. Names like Krushelnisky and Brodeur are forever linked in my mind to that car and lazy Sunday afternoon drives. And all the times dad would forget to let me in the car, opening all the other doors then starting off, stopping when mom thwacked him and reminded him that I was still standing in the parking lot. When I got older, I even got to drive the boat myself. As Anna was the older sister, with dibs on mom's cuter car, I got to cruise Vancouver in style numerous times. We even drove it downtown in '94 during the Stanley Cup riots parties. Good times were certainly had in that car.

RIP, Boat.