This week marks the end of the line for a 2009 Hyundai Sonata Limited and I'm hurting over it. The car has been well used and if I were a guy whose image is wound up in what he drives, I would long ago have moved on from a vehicle with 175,000 miles. But the car was nice. Leather upholstry, heated seats, alloy wheels, moonroof, a big V6 and only once in it's 10 year life did the car fail to start for me ... after I left an interior light on before going out of town. In March of 2017 it sustained a battering by hail. No windows or lights were broken and though the car was totaled by my insurance company, it remained about 99 percent as comfortable, mechanically sound and fun to drive as before the storm. I arranged to keep the wreck. I called the vehicle Deadpool, because even though it was bumpy on the outside … inside it was awesome. I kept on driving the car and I liked it enough to put in new shocks, struts, lifetime brakes, Yokahama tires, etc. because though worthless as a trade in, it was still great transportation. It was comfortable and would accelerate smoothly to any speed I was brave enough to drive. I got rear ended on the Bush Tollway last Tuesday. I came around a curve to see three lanes full of brake lights. I had let off the gas because I had expected it. I put my foot on the brakes a couple of times so people behind me who couldn't see the filled lanes could at least know I was slowing. Didn't do any good. The driver of a gold Lexus immediately behind me had to brake hard and swerve onto the shoulder. The guy behind her in a Dodge Magnum was hopeless because he waited too long to brake. Frankly, as fast as his lights seem to be approaching, I was surprised he could stop soon enough to avoid catastrophe. As it was he heavily damaged my Sonata and lightly damaged the Gold Lexus (I credit him with a good business decision there.) I was unhurt and unemotional. My car still drove, but the right rear quarte panel the trunk lid, the back bumper and the right rear lights were smashed to bits. The brave Sonata still motored on, ugly and unsafe, but still capable and willing. I love my paint and body guy and he looked over the bent metal and busted plastic and said, "Let it go, don't look back." I thought I was taking his advice, but last night when I was coming inside from the driveway from my nasty little rental car, I pushed a button to automatically lock it. However, I had pulled out the wrong keys. The lights came on in my Sonata and the sight brought on emotions that I had suppressed. Here a car that gave its all and never failed me was about to be sent to the scapyard with nary a goodbye. The funny thing to me is that I didn't consciously think about it and become sad. I became sad, then had to consciously think about why... Damn, I guess I really did love my car.