Write an Obituary for Your Dearly Departed Car
Submit a Carbituary…the best will go into a book
Carbituaries is a new Medium publication devoted to a genre that existed but I named 15 years ago: Literary tributes of all stripes to beloved vehicles that have bit the dust. Obituaries for cars. Carbituaries.
Eventually, we will pay something (beyond whatever you might make if you’re part of the Medium Partner Program) for the best, the weirdest, the favorites and we’ll put them into a book.
October 2005. A guy I was dating off and on emailed me the following:
1997 Acura Integra
My car passed away in Franksville, WI, on Wednesday at age 8 of a progressive crankshaft failure. It was originally purchased in August 1997 in Palatine and spent the first year of it’s life there, lived in Wicker Park for the next year before moving back to the suburbs. It spent the final year and a half of its life making high speed commutes between Des Plaines and Franksville. The car was described by its loved ones as always being reliable, yet fun, transportation. It had a sporty and carefree nature and the transmission and clutch were particularly engaging. While the backseat was small and difficult to access, that was rarely an impediment to the car’s usefulness. The car was often admired for the utility of its hatch and its fuel economy. The Integra is survived by a Schwinn 10-speed bicycle, a pair of rollerblades, and some very comfortable walking shoes. The car had 146,000 miles on the odometer when it passed on.
Wow, dude. Normally reticent, this automation software guy bothered to spend some reflective moments penning a eulogy to a car. This Acura Integra meant something to him. Car lover. Non-driver. We’re now married.
A year later, almost to the date, a guy my sister would eventually marry blasted out this email (unaware of the above one):
Subject: 257,332 Importance: Low
When William, the tow truck driver arrived today to pickup my 1992 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme SL, that was the number on the odometer. I put about 237,000 of those miles on there myself. In case you were wondering, the distance from the Earth to the Moon, on average, is about 239,000 miles.
From May of 1993 until now, the Wyt Blur was to me what the Millennium Falcon was to Han Solo except that neither me or my car made the Kessel Run that fast and Spike bears no resemblance to Chewbacca (although I did have a cat by that name once). We did, however, make the Cleveland run in. 4 hours flat once. [It continued for seven more paragraphs of moving tribute.]
First there was one. Now there were two. It was a collection, a thing. The thing that had motivated these two non-writers to collect their thoughts in an organized way was the passing of their beloved vehicles. They had written carbituaries.
Several years ago, I worked with humorist Bull Garlington, who created the fantastic image above for the book cover, to collect others’ carbituaries and photos for a glossy hardcover. And we got some amazing ones.
- An ode in rhyming verse to an art car that went to Burning Man
- A recollection of a great white 1975 Dodge van named Moby Jane
- A tribute to a 1967 Austin FX4 diesel, the quintessential London black taxicab, by Geoffrey Notkin, co-host of the Science Channel’s Meteorite Men
- Another by author Arnie Bernstein to a 2002 Subaru Sport Impreza, the car he once had the privilege of driving Studs Terkel home in after his last martini
We had a dozen solid contenders, but we needed 30–50 to meet our vision. Carbituaries has been decaying in the junkyard of abandoned projects ever since.
Until now. In turning Carbituaries into a Medium publication, I’m hoping that maybe — just maybe — down the road, and with a full tank of gas, it will cross the Rainbow Bridge to Valhalla and become a book. Will you write one for our consideration? Contact info is here.
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