The time has come to say “goodbye.”
As I watch them strap her in, it’s clear I won’t be getting another chance.
But what do I say when I LIVE purely by the grace of her sacrifice? …the bitter consequence of choices I made on December 23rd, 1986; when she and I journeyed through darkness and dreams to a narrow ledge at the very edge of death, and I learned of fate, forgiveness and friendship. Especially friendship.
For Rusty was my best friend. She was adventurous, joyful and filled with humility as only a 1972 Volkswagen bus can be!
Our journey began on a lonely highway at 12:30 am…
For I CHOSE not to spend the night with family (just a few minutes away) but to crawl over the mountains so that, come morning, I could get to work on time.
I CHOSE to head toward home, a sleepy village at the ocean’s edge.
I CHOSE to drag us down a shrouded road winding through endless dark somber stands of fir and hemlock.
And after two torturous hours my eyelids were screaming for a place to pull over, when a little green sign slid by saying ‘home was just two minutes ahead!’ I CHOSE to drive on…
Snuggled in the soft flannel of my childhood bed, I watch a full moon flood my room with cobalt blue. Rhododendrons tapping at the windows…strangely insistent, vigorous, even violent.
TREEEEE!
I heave myself out of the dream and back onto the road, barely dodging one certain death, only to tear headlong toward the gaping abyss on the other side! I yank her back to the right and we start dancing back and forth and back and no, oh no, please, PLEASE, NOOOOO!
Out of the abyss I hear fate’s calm reply – “yes.”
Rock and tree slammed into us! We bashed, tumbled and plunged inexorably toward the torrent raging in the canyon’s depths. And all the while, as our bodies broke, I….felt….nothing but Rusty’s strapping arms holding me tight. I….heard….nothing but three gentle words repeated in my ear: “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Then, with a mind-splitting stab, I found myself half under water. It took a bit of futile gasping to realize it was the wrong half. And the arms which had just held me safe now held me prisoner, flailing, head down, sucking up buckets of ice, and horrified. But Rusty wasn’t done yet.
Balancing on a narrow ledge over the pitiless, roiling depths, she faced into the oncoming rush and settled down on the driver’s side. Stunned and bleeding I unbuckled, slipped through her now vacant windshield, and scrambled back to the road above. I never looked back, fearing the clutches I’d just escaped would pull me back in.
Six months later…I’d recovered.
But Rusty hadn’t.
Rusty sat abandoned in lonely silence at my parents’ home because, in my shame, I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t speak the words. And then my dad called: “Son, some kids want to turn her into a dune buggy. Now will you get me those darned keys?”
The time has come to say “goodbye.”
As I watch them strap her in, it’s clear I won’t be getting another chance.
So I climb into her misshapen frame and breathe a long overdue “I’m sorry” and, out of habit, try the key. It was the only time in our years together when she started on the first turn! And in that moment came words of forgiveness: “Hey, no worries. It’s all good! I’m just glad I could be there. And anyway, the next time someone drives me off a cliff I’m gonna have a roll bar!”
I last saw Rusty’s smiling face through warm tears as she was carried off toward her next great adventure. And though our journey ended many years ago now, I still carry with me these thoughts of friendship…
On this long, winding road we travel even our best choices, our best intentions, can leave us hanging upside down on some narrow ledge gasping for breath. Cherish those who hold you close when everything turns wrong. And, when someone you love – your friend, your child, your life’s companion – journeys into darkness, fold your arms around them, hold tight and gently say “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
