The original Suby was the first car I ever bought, way back in 1999, and thus far he is the favorite of all the cars that I’ve owned. We went on an epic 13,000 mile road trip through Alaska, explored the Western United States, and only parted ways because 145,000 miles had elapsed over seven years and I was beginning to fear for his health.
In 2006 Son of Suby arrived, and while that car didn’t share as many adventures as its predecessor, we still managed the occasional 7,000 mile bonding experience.
Son of Suby passed his tenth birthday a while ago, so on Sunday I sent a few emails, haggled over trade-in values, and eventually went to the dealer to make the acquaintance of Suby III. As I write this he is parked out in the driveway, looking dapper, and he has a moonroof. Good times lie ahead.
The Original Suby on the Dalton Highway, way up in Northern Alaska.
Son of Suby on our last day together.
Suby III, showing his game face at the dealer.
Almost exactly seven years ago my Geo Prizm chugged up the Dumbarton bridge in rush hour during the height of the dot-com boom. She never made it back down. The backup supposedly went eighteen miles, three traffic helicopters were eventually circling, and I’m told I was on the evening news. It was a fitting end for my first car – we drove across the country together, the speedometer broke and I drove for six months with no idea of how fast I was going, and I learned about car repairs since I didn’t have the money to fix things at a shop.
The Prizm was replaced in 1999 by the Suby – I picked the car out based on the fact that I could stretch out full length in the back to sleep. During our time together the Suby and I took a 13,000 mile roadtrip to Alaska, we traveled all over the western United States, and as of yesterday we’d spent over 145,461 miles together. The Suby took great care of me and deserved an end at least as glorious as what happened to the Prizm, but I’ve gotten older, and the idea of breaking down in the middle of the desert a hundred miles from civilization was too extreme for my 31 year old sensibilities. As a result the Suby will soon be in a new home, and the Son of Suby is parked in the garage. More than likely SoS and I will be off on our first road trip shortly, and hopefully junior will live up to the grand legacy of his predecessor.
The Suby and me on the Dalton Highway in Northern Alaska.