My friend David recently got in an accident and lost his car, arguably one of the most minor things you can lose in a car accident (license, arm, life, loved one, etc. suddenly a car seems pretty minor).

Hearing him talk about Pergamina (for that was the car's name), I was reminded of a class assignment from 10th grade (wow, 12 years ago...) where we were asked to write a eulogy for anyone or anything, and I chose my sister's car:
 

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The Tank (1979-1989)

May, 1979. My mom was very late from work and I was home alone for hours. I began to panic and was near tears when she drove upin a brand new '79 Volvo 244. I hastily dismissed my fear and went out to look at the car. My mom showed it off like her newbaby, no diapers needed. I loved it, it was big, it was new, but it was green. "What would possess you to buy a car in a huethat hadn't been seen since T.V. sit-coms of the '60s," I didn't say; not old enough to chide the one person in the world Ithought couldn't make any mistakes. The car became an extension of our lives, mine, my mother's, and my sister's. I always feltsafe there, knowing that no matter what kind of accident we got into I would hate to see what happened the other car becauseours was invincible.

As I grew older the car grew with me, and in 1987 it grew past the point of most cars and used that sixth digit in the odometer.It had graduated from the university of the sub-decimillion mile and now it was equipped for the ultimate test. The car washanded down to my sister on her 16'th birthday.

The Car, (as we always called it), protected my sister from the hell of the Los Angeles automotive perils for a year before itwas tested. My sister was returning from the beach with friends when The Car met the only possible foe a car of his staturecould have, a Ford Galaxy. After this run in The Car used his powers to make sure that we didn't get the bad end of the deal; infact, when the mail came, we were surprised to find not one, but two insurance checks in the load, each for the amount of theclaim. I'd imagine that The Car wasn't surprised though.

Later in its life, The Car outgrew his name and was dubbed The Tank. The Tank's next test occurred in the Valley College parkinglot, where some kids unwittingly attempted to steal The Tank's radio. They tried to break the window with scant success,then they tried to open the door using a crowbar. The Tank laughed. Then when The Tank thought he had them beat, they struck thewindow again full force. They managed to strike a lucky blow and made off with the radio.

After a small family dispute it was settled that I would inherit The Tank upon my sixteenth birthday, but, as fate would have it,exactly one month away from that holy day The Tank breathed his last.

The Tank died as he lived, full of life, happiness, and helpfulness. It was while attempting the treacherous Grapevine, carrying5 happy friends to Lake Tahoe that he lost grip of a cylinder and died. The only comfort I can find in this is the knowledgethat he died without pain, that he was happy until the end, that he never knew sorrow. Yet it is with a heavy heart that mysister and I set forth in our tasks to find two cars to replace him, one for me, and one for my sister. I have heard that thebest thing in a time of loss is to find other amusements; I suppose that I will find out whether or not this theory holds.