My lien release came while I was away, and along with the title and my signature meant my Saturn Ion and I would forever part ways. It was a reliable car. I remember telling the dealer that I didn't want any frills, but that I needed a decent stereo. There was nothing automatic about it; the seats and windows were both adjusted manually. No frills meant no sunroof, and no On Star system, although I could have activated it. Over two years, it required no maintenance except for oil changes, and was ideal for city driving, quick bursts of acceleration and easy mobility from A, B, and sometimes to C.
The guy I bought it from still works there, although it's a Mitsubishi now. They still buy used Saturns, and mine was in good shape, despite its hail damaged hood and crushed passenger-side mirror. Note to whomever decapitated it: may your vehicle's air conditioning system start to smell like rotten carp. In July. When you're on a date with someone you really want to impress. Payback's a bitch.
Despite the car's admirable reliability, it was time to sell it when it was still worth something, enough at least to allow for some financial ease for my imminent move Westward. Plus, I was scared to leave my car outside for fear of further vandalism when every voice from below my apartment window would send my rushing to ensure it was safe. Dayton Avenue is hard on cars. Countless cars have been hit, scraped, vandalized, ticketed, and stolen. I'm fortunate my Saturn only suffered what it did.
The car wasn't perfect (the cloth seats were too easily prone to staining, and its lack of cruise control was noisome on long drives,) but overall I have no complaints with the vehicle, the dealership, and the weirdly compelling feeling of liberation that comes from knowing that I don't have to pay for gas, insurance, or the misanthropy of others. Urban riots could occur on Dayton Avenue tonight (they might, it's Saint Patrick's day), but I'm sleeping pretty.
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