I looked at her. And felt the words swell up in my mouth. But I had to say them. It was already almost too late.
“Virginia, I’m so sorry. Really I am. I wish this could end differently. But. We just aren’t working anymore. You know? I can’t depend on you. And I’m tired of paying your huge bills.”
She remained silent, staring at me vacantly. I soldiered on. “Please know that I wish you well. If there was anything else I could do for you, I would. I’m so sorry.”
I stopped speaking. The tears welled up in my eyes. After fourteen years of being together, I was saying goodbye. We’d known each other since college. And through first jobs. And then second. And first loves. And seconds. She’d waited for me when I went off to parts unknown to work or study. And I’d always come back to find her arms wide open, ready to support me in every way.
And now. I had to say goodbye. And trade her in for a new model.
I sighed and stroked the seat of my Kinetic Honda. It was hard saying goodbye to a bike that had seen you through teenage, your twenties and your thirties as well. A bike that I’d cried on, laughed on, babbled on, like a crazy person to myself and even guiltily broke the law by using a mobile phone on.
Goodbye Betsy Virginia Matilda. You were awesome enough for three names.