Ode to a Camry
Songs will not be written about the Toyota Camry. A Camry will never feature in a major music video (at least not of a song you probably are going to like). The Camry is as white bread a car as you can find. It's earned its reputation as one of the most reliable cars on the road without any of the flash. Even when it tries to be flashy, such as a few recent redesign campaigns and its NASCAR launch, it sort of elicits a chuckle. It is the Pete Sampras of automobiles, lacking Agassi's flash, Federer's refinement, Nadal's passion... yet it does what it does so well.
When I left New York City for Charlotte, N.C. in 2005, I needed a car. Well, I needed a car on the budget I was on, which, despite Charlotte's cosmopolitan aspirations, meant a pay cut from NYC, about-the-same rent, and new expenses (car payment, car insurance). You can imagine I wanted something that wasn't going to be in the shop with anything resembling frequency.
The Camry fit the bill that August.
It was not my first car (that would be the Pontiac I bought out of college only to discard after less than a year because, well, NYC), but it was a bookmark to the beginning of a new life that involved a new city with the woman I'd been dating over distance and we were starting a life together.
I'm very utilitarian about cars. At an event last year in the McLaren showroom in Beverly Hills, I could appreciate the engineering behind the amazingly expensive cars on display, but I looked at them with almost an air of "why?" Nowhere I drive is going to let me do what a McLaren can do. I have some predisposition to avoid going too crazy on something that is worth amazingly less the moment it leaves the lot.
So in August 2005, the Camry was the right choice and, for more than a dozen years that followed, it remained so.
Friends, if it's possible to be sentimental about a Camry, I am sentimental about a Camry. Yes, the Camry was with my wife and I for our entire life together, so it's easy to say I'm sentimental about the times we had together with the car. But it's more than that.
This Camry was a warrior.
First of all, it was a brilliant car on the highway. Drives from Charlotte to Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia were always completed with gas to spare on arrival. As two cash-strapped young professionals, that meant access to friends and weddings and events in places that we couldn't afford much more than a couple tanks of gas and some Wendy's.
It was the car I drove to my wedding and honeymoon in. It was also the car that handled the snaking roads of the Blue Ridge to hikes (and National Forest Roads... but more on that to come).
When we made the big move west, it was the Camry that my wife drove cross-country. Since moving to Seattle, the car - at this point with more than 100,000 miles - did not show its age, despite acquiring the dents and nicks that living in the heart of a major city can deliver.
It also handled me tossing the chains on and asking it to scale Stevens Pass or the road to Crystal Mountain while others in vehicles that passed the eye test spun their wheels. It also took me hiking often, but sometimes to places it had no business going. National Forest roads are variable to say the least. The Camry never found one it couldn't handle and, as much as I can say it was from good planning, nothing will compare to the time I drove it to the Rainy Lake Trailhead for a weekend of backpacking near Hood River, OR.
In my haste to quickly change a camping plan due to weather, I missed that the Forest Road to this trailhead is only recommended for high-clearance vehicles. When we arrived at Rainy Lake, I needed 10 minutes to calm my nerves after a truly harrowing drive. The car? It was fine. Returning to the trailhead the next morning to discard trash on the way to the next campsite, a driver of a full-size pickup expressed his admiration that the car had made it. "We wondered who managed that," he said. I could only take half the blame... the car, despite appearances had the ability to surprise. The car made it out unscathed, too.
Maybe it gave back as good as it got, because, reader, we took care of this car. I remember taking it in for recurring service last year and the service tech coming in to tell me just how good of shape the car was in.
It's also the car I learned to take care of myself. I learned how silly it was for anyone but me to change a headlight or air filter with this car. I spiffed it up a couple times in its lifespan with new wheel covers, thorough cleanings and more. I managed to install a new stereo with Bluetooth integration as well as any professional installer could have.
Essentially, the car far exceeded any expectations I could have ever had when I drove out of the lot in 2005. So, yes, it was bittersweet to say goodbye today as we sent the Camry off to well-earned pasture. I don't know if it will be driven again... I suppose I can look up the VIN in a few months. My guess? It's going to be used for parts, the sum of which probably exceeds and resale value they have together. In a way, I kind of like that more. Aside from the the idea that I'll be the only one to attach memories to it, I like that it can be an organ donor of sorts for someone else. Not every part of the car is 13 years old, see. If it can carry a little bit of its spirit to a few other people's rides, then all the best.
Yes, today, I took the official Seattle oath and bought a Subaru. I'm excited for the adventures I will have in it. It has the ability to open new roads to me through higher clearance. It's shiny and wonderful and modern and when the sunroof (they call it a moonroof... whatever) is open light floods into the cabin. Times will be had in the new car and I'm looking forward to them. There will be times to tell those stories, but they are still to come.
Today, when we drove into the dealer to settle on the new car, we actually said a few words to send off the Camry. It always answered the call, from snow to desert to Carolina heat to the mess of the Beltway... Like Sampras, maybe it wasn't scintillating, but damn if the results don't hold up against the best.
When I left New York City for Charlotte, N.C. in 2005, I needed a car. Well, I needed a car on the budget I was on, which, despite Charlotte's cosmopolitan aspirations, meant a pay cut from NYC, about-the-same rent, and new expenses (car payment, car insurance). You can imagine I wanted something that wasn't going to be in the shop with anything resembling frequency.
The Camry fit the bill that August.
It was not my first car (that would be the Pontiac I bought out of college only to discard after less than a year because, well, NYC), but it was a bookmark to the beginning of a new life that involved a new city with the woman I'd been dating over distance and we were starting a life together.
I'm very utilitarian about cars. At an event last year in the McLaren showroom in Beverly Hills, I could appreciate the engineering behind the amazingly expensive cars on display, but I looked at them with almost an air of "why?" Nowhere I drive is going to let me do what a McLaren can do. I have some predisposition to avoid going too crazy on something that is worth amazingly less the moment it leaves the lot.
So in August 2005, the Camry was the right choice and, for more than a dozen years that followed, it remained so.
Friends, if it's possible to be sentimental about a Camry, I am sentimental about a Camry. Yes, the Camry was with my wife and I for our entire life together, so it's easy to say I'm sentimental about the times we had together with the car. But it's more than that.
This Camry was a warrior.
First of all, it was a brilliant car on the highway. Drives from Charlotte to Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia were always completed with gas to spare on arrival. As two cash-strapped young professionals, that meant access to friends and weddings and events in places that we couldn't afford much more than a couple tanks of gas and some Wendy's.
It was the car I drove to my wedding and honeymoon in. It was also the car that handled the snaking roads of the Blue Ridge to hikes (and National Forest Roads... but more on that to come).
When we made the big move west, it was the Camry that my wife drove cross-country. Since moving to Seattle, the car - at this point with more than 100,000 miles - did not show its age, despite acquiring the dents and nicks that living in the heart of a major city can deliver.
It also handled me tossing the chains on and asking it to scale Stevens Pass or the road to Crystal Mountain while others in vehicles that passed the eye test spun their wheels. It also took me hiking often, but sometimes to places it had no business going. National Forest roads are variable to say the least. The Camry never found one it couldn't handle and, as much as I can say it was from good planning, nothing will compare to the time I drove it to the Rainy Lake Trailhead for a weekend of backpacking near Hood River, OR.
In my haste to quickly change a camping plan due to weather, I missed that the Forest Road to this trailhead is only recommended for high-clearance vehicles. When we arrived at Rainy Lake, I needed 10 minutes to calm my nerves after a truly harrowing drive. The car? It was fine. Returning to the trailhead the next morning to discard trash on the way to the next campsite, a driver of a full-size pickup expressed his admiration that the car had made it. "We wondered who managed that," he said. I could only take half the blame... the car, despite appearances had the ability to surprise. The car made it out unscathed, too.
Maybe it gave back as good as it got, because, reader, we took care of this car. I remember taking it in for recurring service last year and the service tech coming in to tell me just how good of shape the car was in.
It's also the car I learned to take care of myself. I learned how silly it was for anyone but me to change a headlight or air filter with this car. I spiffed it up a couple times in its lifespan with new wheel covers, thorough cleanings and more. I managed to install a new stereo with Bluetooth integration as well as any professional installer could have.
Essentially, the car far exceeded any expectations I could have ever had when I drove out of the lot in 2005. So, yes, it was bittersweet to say goodbye today as we sent the Camry off to well-earned pasture. I don't know if it will be driven again... I suppose I can look up the VIN in a few months. My guess? It's going to be used for parts, the sum of which probably exceeds and resale value they have together. In a way, I kind of like that more. Aside from the the idea that I'll be the only one to attach memories to it, I like that it can be an organ donor of sorts for someone else. Not every part of the car is 13 years old, see. If it can carry a little bit of its spirit to a few other people's rides, then all the best.
Yes, today, I took the official Seattle oath and bought a Subaru. I'm excited for the adventures I will have in it. It has the ability to open new roads to me through higher clearance. It's shiny and wonderful and modern and when the sunroof (they call it a moonroof... whatever) is open light floods into the cabin. Times will be had in the new car and I'm looking forward to them. There will be times to tell those stories, but they are still to come.
Today, when we drove into the dealer to settle on the new car, we actually said a few words to send off the Camry. It always answered the call, from snow to desert to Carolina heat to the mess of the Beltway... Like Sampras, maybe it wasn't scintillating, but damn if the results don't hold up against the best.
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