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A Farewell to Friends

A Farewell to Friends

Like so many wise men—
they never told the whole story.
Not about that old Corvair,
or the Studebaker Avanti.

Car of the Year, 1960.
“Unsafe at any speed.”
“Those accusations were proven false.”
The old car was always there—
from before I can remember.

One day, it would be back on the road,
his engine humming like an afterthought,
the cabin thick with dust and fresh oil,
and something sweet I never could place.

He coughed when he started,
“Leaked oil like a derelict tanker,
his heater tried to kill you with fumes.”
but he never missed a chance to go.

The Avanti came later—sleeker, stranger.
A sharp-nosed dream from another time.
Fiberglass and ambition.
“The fastest production car in the world.”
Sherwood Egbert’s doodle!

He parked like he owned the place.
Leather seats gleaming in the sun,
gauges with numbers too high to believe,
a voice like thunder held back by chrome.

The banter was constant—
compression, design, dignity—
and who had aged with more grace.
It was always loud,
affectionate laughter.

This morning, the Corvair’s engine didn’t turn over.
No cough.
No protest.
Just stillness.
“It had been a good few days.”
“Maybe the alternator?”

Avanti means “onward” in Italian.
But what do you do
when your oldest friend
has parked?

I wish I could stand in the garage again—
tools hanging on the wall,
handing wrenches,
listening to them reminisce about the past.

Corvair—faithful and flawed,
leaking, fuming, alive.
Avanti—beautiful and proud,
still whispering:
Get out there. Drive!

They were never just cars.
Reliable in imperfect ways.
Worn. Strange. Loud.
Utterly present.

Cars hold stories.
We keep them alive—
in the way we remember,
in the way we say goodbye,
in the way we drive.

• This poem is based on my father's relationship with his close friend, Nelson, who passed just shy of his 89th birthday.  I have never known a world where Nelson wasn't part of our family. I've also never known a world that did not have Studebakers. The photos are my brother and me... and Sherwood, a 64 Studebaker Avanti. 
• In the top photo, my father must have taken the picture because the car is perfectly framed. My brother is completely chopped out of the frame. Oh no, is that paint? Watch out Sherwood, I’m coming for you!

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