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Tue. July 11, 2006, 06:48am PDT

R.I.P. Dijon

After a late high school drive around Mt. Hood with my brother, the reality of how relatively affordable a good first car could be set in. I approached my parents almost immediately when we got back and posed the question: what would you think about getting me a car? Now, most parents, you might assume, would go the "shock and awe" route and pretend to be surprised and make up excuses why I was too young and unpredictable to be allowed on the roads with a vehicle of my own. Fortunately for me, the opposite happened. As they already knew (and I would later find out through nicknames such as "grandpa driver" given to me by my own mom) I was actually a pretty responsible teenager. Although not rich, my parents saw reason in my request especially due to all my before and after school band activities. They handed me the classifieds and the hunt was on.

It didn't take long for my heart to get set on a nice used Subaru or Volvo wagon (see? grandpa). They're reliable and abundant which bodes well for both the insurance premium and the pocketbook. In a matter of a day or two I found myself parked on the side of a street with my parents in an older neighborhood somewhere in Portland (probably southeast). We were there to take a look at a pale mustard yellow 1983 Volvo wagon we found for sale at somewhere around $2,500 (am I right on that, mom?). The car was parked opposite us and looks like a real gem. The interior was in solid shape and most everything all around looked clean. We headed back to our car to talk over whether we should really consider this particular set of wheels seriously enough to ask for a test drive or simply move on and keep looking. While the discussion took place, another potential buyer gave the car a close look and even went up to the listed owners house to surely do a little talk serious about taking this one home. Why not? After all, it's a Volvo, in great shape for a great price.

No luck since no one answered they left and we again left our own car to have another gander. One of us had just spoken with the owner before driving over and were sure he was home. The layout of the house was confusing and I remembered something about knocking at a different door. I found a door around and to the side of the house and gave it a knock or two. The owner emerged and we took it for a test drive and, sooner than I knew it, we drove it home.

I made good use of my car getting back and forth from my parents' place well north of Vancouver and most of my school and musical activities. As time sped forward I got pulled over twice (once for driving the speed limit in downtown Vancouver with a car full of suspiciously seat belted friends after leaving a fellow high schoolers funeral), rear-ended once, and endured many a foggy window on many a rainy day and a couple dead batteries. Nevertheless, Dijon, as I came to call him, got me where I needed to go and kept me safe. I even had a lucky charm in a froggish Battle Beast toy from my youth that landed perfectly astride the trip odometer reset knob when I was rear ended. Since I escaped that accident unscathed there he sat as a guardian of my traffic safety.

Dijon even took me to college. I didn't have him the entire time I was there but have some great memories of being frustrated with him in front of my then-girlfriend, future wife, Sarah on our first Valentine's day together when, battery drained after little use, I tried to give Dijon a start so we could take a romantic drive and picnic out to nearby Alder Lake. He didn't start up but we got him charged and enjoyed our day nonetheless.

Once I got a real, full-time job at PLU I gave up Dijon in favor of Fanta the orange 1972 Karman Ghia and later my current set of wheels in a 2002 Subaru Impreza sport wagon. This past weekend while in town for my Dad's 65th Birthday, I took a long and last look at Dijon as he happily sat, as could be viewed from space, in my parents' driveway. One side was weathered with fine moss and some more rust had eaten small pieces of its body away but that little yellow car with black [replacement] back door that could sat like a faithful old dog just waiting to be played with. My dad even offered up that, if he were to slap a battery in him would probably start up without a problem. We all had a good laugh, I snapped a few photos, then bid Dijon farewell for my parents were finally set to get rid of him.

Yesterday, I got the word. An email from my mom with the subject "Volvo RIP" told me all I needed to know. They gave Dijon up as an organ doner to a home for auto parts in need. The best and saddest part is that the minute my dad hooked up a battery so he could be taken away, Dijon started right up. What a champ. So here's to Dijon -- a great first car and one I'll certainly never forget. Thanks for getting me there and sticking it out 'til the end.

R.I.P. Dijon
1983 ~ 2006

Comments (13) | To Top

7/11/2006 @ 8:53am

Yes, I do think it cost around $2,500. My favorite pic is the one with yours and Sarah's cars nose to nose -- very romantic! Dijon gave his life so that others could live. Those Swedes are a selfless lot.

by Kathy Freitas

7/11/2006 @ 9:00am

Too true -- just sent Joseph an email to ask his co-worker to save me the rear license plate. I should've thought of that sooner but it would make a solid momento for me.

What a great first car. Thanks to you guys for that!

by KevinFreitas

7/11/2006 @ 9:13am

Know what else? Dijon was 23 years old this year--your favorite number!

by Cassioposa

7/11/2006 @ 9:45am

That's a good number to go out on. It must've been meant to be...

7/11/2006 @ 10:16am

It makes me kind of teary to know that Dijon is gone. That car served me well for a time as well.

Mom has a habit of breaking sad news in emails...I hope Kevin has some warning, Mom, that is something that can put a guy in therapy. I mean, just look at this journal entry. Such an attachment between man and machine...

And I hope you found a good home to the resident yellowjacks!

by Toni

7/11/2006 @ 2:12pm

Hey dude, my heart goes out to ya. Giving up my green VW was tough for the same reasons.

That little Volvo took us on countless trips to the beach, the Hideaway, the Lewis River Trail, and inbetween Vancouver and Tacoma. What kind of mileage did it have on it at the end?

by Aaron Rose

7/11/2006 @ 2:33pm

Ooo -- don't know that one. Mom: Can you check with dad to find out?

Yeah, when looking through all my photos for Dijon shots I saw many a photo of your VW. What a lovely vehicle that was. You're /totally/ going to need to have a mid-life crisis and get another one then pimp it out for network gaming. Yeah.

7/11/2006 @ 3:34pm

Where can a person get another great guardian for THEIR vehicle. I mean, come on, yours even had a SPEAR for a hand...

I'm wondering how come Sarah wasn't as attached to her piece of... er, her Pontiac... as you were to your Volvo? All the drives to McDonalds at lunch during high school... All the after school activities we shared together... All the rides to and from work she took in it... It followed her to college as well... I'm surprised Sarah didn't hang on to that beast. I think it's still running in California, Sarah, if you'd like me to buy it back so you can park it in your alley... You know, just to admire on the weekends. Let me know.

Didn't you have a nick name for it, Sarah? Oh yeah, POS.

by Mandy

7/11/2006 @ 3:38pm

Yeah, I don't think I was quite as attached to my first set of wheels. It didn't help that my car refused to let me unlock it in the rain...and then I move to the Seattle area. Instead of a touching blog entry, I believe I sent it on its way with a farewell that would be best described as a one-fingered gesture.

7/11/2006 @ 3:44pm

Now that you mention it, I DO remember the faint smelling of mildew that used to remain in your car for weeks after a good rain.

I DO remember your farewell gesture very well. But I do remember that you also followed the gesture with a few choice words that I wouldn't repeat to the most FOULEST contractor I know.

7/11/2006 @ 7:13pm

I'm such a sap that I still HAVE my first car Vicki, the 1966 Volvo. I can't ever imagine getting rid of it! I'm very proud of you Kevin!

by Britta

7/11/2006 @ 7:37pm

Well, no offense to Dijon, but Vicki is one never to get rid of. Even with Fanta currently hiding out in our garage I don't plan to ever be one that says "I should've never got rid of that car..." That orange Ghia will be around for a while.

7/12/2006 @ 8:53am

For the record, Miss Toni, we did tell Kevin that the Volvo was going to car heaven very soon, so he had some warning and should not need therapy. And it cost $2,450, so we guessed nearly right, Kevin. I will see what the mileage was. Kevin, Joseph has the license plate because Dad gave him some old ones to make birdhouses out of! Better tell him what yours was. Also, I can't believe Britta had an older model first car than I did -- a '68 Firebird.