In 1820 John Keats wrote "Ode on a Grecian Urn" and has since then been referred to as one of man's literary greats. "Ode" is an enigmatic and enchanting piece that describes the poetic scenes portrayed on an ancient vase.

Last Saturday night I totaled my car. My 1998 Subaru Outback has seen it's final days thanks to the force impacted upon her hood by a streaking deer on I-70 East. Therefore I will now present to you MY grecian urn. This blog could potentially place the name Jess Mosser among the likes of Keats, Hemingway, and the married couple that wrote the Berenstein Bears books. What I'm really trying to say is....
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Now that those who needed flashcards are caught up, let's begin.

You didn't deserve to go out like this. A car that has survived road trips with 5 to 6 teenagers testing its structural fortitude has surely earned a more dignified downfall than a deafening thud at 70 mph. A fiery viking funeral, a high mass at the Vatican, a pouring of malt liquor on the curb. Something. Let alone the fact that you were far too young, a mere 57,000 miles. A well-manufactured import like yourself should have driven well into the 100,000 mark.

A sad day indeed when your right headlight exploded in front of our faces. As our awestruck eyes stared at what seemed like a thousand points of light, I visualized the life and times of a vehicle that many labeled as "functional," others tabbed a "utility wagon," but I just called "Subie."

Do you remember the time I drove you home from Cedar Point, by myself, and driving halfway across the state in the wrong direction? I do. Do you recall when we would drive you around and stick thousands of forks in people's yards? We used you because you were black and stealthy in nature. Remember when I left you in Columbus and you spent the day in the impound. I don't think you trusted me for a few weeks after that, and you shouldn't have. Lord knows what happened behind those bars. Remember when we got pulled over for speeding? Twice. On the same road. I'll always remember how your expansive back hatch was able to hold everything from skis to a 7th, (or sometimes 8th,) passenger. I'll always look back fondly on the time when we pulled into Seneca Lake and those douchebags from Texas made a comment about your ability to get out of the muddy path we had just traversed. I then revved all four of your cylinders, muttered something in an Australian accent, and took your all-wheel drive ass right back the way we came. Our friends from down south were pissing themselves in the ambience of your unchained fury and respectable gas mileage.

I wept as we surveryed the damage that fateful night. A drunken Kyle Donnelly asked why in the hell we were pulling over, but I wept. It was indeed a dark day...and not only because it was 1:30 in the morning. Our thoughts are with your now Subie as you have been a good servant and an even better friend.

Sure, I'll get money from the insurance company and buy a new car, but things won't be the same. Your replacement won't exude the same charisma and confidence that you did. You had a type of disposition that made you cringe at the term "station wagon" and scream back, "it's sport-ultility wagon...BITCH!"

The mourning period will be arduous, but it can't last long as I'll be returning to school soon and will need a car to drive me there. Rest assured, however, that whenever I see another of your kind driving along the road of life; the memory of your spirit will be in my mind...kicking ass and taking names.