...Phil the Echo...

In 2002, when I was a senior in high school, I asked my Dad for a car to take up to school in Utah. He said no. I asked again and again, and all I got was no, no, and more no. With my desperate, 18 year old wheels spinning into overtime, I decided to spend HOURS designing my own letterhead, on which I wrote a two paged, single spaced, very professionally written (if I do say so myself) argument as to why I NEEDED a car at college, and how it was crucial, to my survival and success in the "real world." I left it on his pillow and hoped for the best. Three days later, on a sunny Saturday morning, Dad asked me to take a drive with him. He drove for 20 minutes before pulling up to Findlay Toyota, where much to my surprise and insane joy, he bought me a brand spanking new, black, 4-door, Toyota Echo. It was basically a street legal golf cart and I was IN LOVE. It had manual crank windows, manual locks, no cruise control, and the smallest tires I’ve ever seen on a real life car, but it felt like a BMW to me. My favorite part is that my dad had the dealership replace the standard hubcaps with rims, because, if I'm being honest, he was a little "car snobby" like that. 😉 I don’t think ANYONE has ever put rims on a $14k car, but I was SO proud. As soon as I registered my car and got license plates, I decided to name my car Phil, after the PHL on the second half of the plate. Some of the best times of my LIFE happened in that car. It was with and in that car that I left home for the first time, as I headed for school, with everything I owned shoved into the trunk and back seat. In that car, I spent crazy fun girl’s nights, did donuts in the snow at midnight, took spur of the moment road trips with forever friends, and made out with more than my fair share of boys ( sorry-ish-kind-of). I bawled my face off in that car more times than I care to admit, zipped around to and from all the dozens of jobs I held in early adulthood, hosted several “Club Echo” parties in it, and even car surfed, 1 or 2 (or 25) times. I got hit by a drunk driver in that car and I hit a GIANT pile of dirt in it (don’t ask). I received 5 tickets for expired tags, 2 speeding tickets, talked my way out of 7 speeding tickets, got clocked going 106 mph by a police officer, and drove up and down the Las Vegas strip at least 100 times. I learned gratitude in that car, because almost every time I put the key in the ignition I was reminded of how thankful I was that my parents would work so hard to provide me with such a convenience. I learned responsibility in that car, because I had to take over the car and insurance payment after my dad was diagnosed with cancer and was unable to work. I learned my dad must have loved me more than I maybe ever knew, when I found the letter I had written, begging him for a car, in the bottom drawer of his dresser, one year after he died. I learned independence in that car as I drove away from home, for what I knew would be the last time ever. I fell in love with my red headed husband while driving around from adventure to adventure with him, and I drove away from my wedding, and into my happily ever after, in that shoe polished car. We sold Phil in 2009  just before we moved from Orem, Utah to Whitefish, Montana, and I bawled like a BABY. I took at least 20 pictures with Phil and of Phil, and actually physically hugged him while I cried. I felt like I was selling a best friend, and I’m being totally serious. I have missed him often, as he is a part of so many good memories I hold dear. Today, on my way to the grocery store, in Kaysville Utah, I got the chills out of nowhere. As I wondered why, I glanced up ahead, and my eye caught a small black car parked in a driveway in the distance. As I got closer, I realized it was a black, 4-door, Toyota Echo. Hopeful, but still skeptic as I always am when I see a black Echo, I glanced down at the tires to see...RIMS. I drove past in disbelief and shock. As soon as I realized what was happening, I flipped a U, and then another and parked right in front of the drive way that housed what could be my Phil. I knew the ONLY way to tell if it was actually Phil, was to get out and check if it had at least 20 dents on the roof, from my irresponsible days of car surfing. I jumped out, and literally ran to the front of the car to find at LEAST 20 dents on the roof. I was SO so happy. I was ELATED. I took several pictures with my phone...then, because I’m insane...knocked on the front door to talk to the new owner of Phil. Luckily (for my pride at least) but also sadly, no one answered. I stood next to the car for another minute while I managed to STRONGLY resist the urge to hug it, and just stuck my hand out to touch it. I got back in my car and bawled. I called my husband and said “ I just saw the Echo! MY ECHO! OUR ECHO! And I’m crying so hard, and I don’t really know why, but I’m just so happy and sad!!!” I sat and stared at Phil for another minute before I drove off in my big minivan, that now I’m all of the sudden feeling AWFUL and kind of lame, for not naming, yet. As I drove away and dried my eyes, I felt really good. I felt happy, a little sad, and a little like I wished I could hug my dad.

This is Phil today...he's a little beat up and semi neglected from his new owners...which makes me want to punch them in the face.