Parting Ways

How do you know when it's time? When to say it's the final curtain call? When to end it gracefully, before anyone gets hurt? When to close the door and just walk away?

This has been on my mind for a while. I'm still not ready to throw in the towel, but I've come to realize the messages are becoming clearer.

Yes, it's been a long and tumultuous ride. There have been good times and bad times, and even scary times. But last night it really reached a pinnacle. I fear the end of the road is near. But how do you really know?

When the trust is no longer there? When you're not comfortable any longer? When it becomes more about the journey and less about the destination?

Truth be told, I've changed. I'm not the same person I was ten years ago. I'm not the same person I was five years ago. When it comes right down to it, I'm just not a mini van kinda gal any longer. I'm not sure I ever was one. And I think it's coming time to move on.



My trust is diminishing. My fears that I'll be left high and dry are increasing. I'm losing my confidence in it's ability to provide for my needs. And the subtle messages are frightening.

While experience has taught me (unfortunately many times over) that there are alternative means for stopping, I still prefer brakes. Overwhelmingly I prefer brakes.



This message has become more frequent in recent years. I'm about out of services to offer it.

I think it may be time to...**gasp**...car shop. If you know me, you probably know I have a strong dislike for shopping. I guess I'm not a stereotypical female in that way. I'd much prefer swinging in the park, walking through the woods, camping by a lake, or reading a good book. You can even add dental work to the list of things I prefer over shopping.

And if you know me you may also know I'm a shrewd negotiator when buying vehicles. There have been instances through the years when D probably prefers the serene comfort of a combine harvester over sitting next to me at a car salesman's desk.

I guess I'll have to be biting the bullet soon and moving on...closing the door on the van before it breaks down and we get hurt. And I promise I'll try to be nice to the car salesmen. In fact, I'll even try to approach it with a better attitude. I'll call it a "car negotiating challenge" instead of the much dreaded shopping word. That should help.