Well now I no longer need to bother locking this car anyway, because it is no longer mine. The lease ended and I turned it in. I’m sentimental every time I do this. In LA, your ride is your sanctuary.
I’ll remember all the times I ran lines behind the wheel on the way to auditions. Or hoisted Ricky’s big butt into the back seat. The meals I ate while steering with my knees. 56,000 miles of memories.
Knowing it was his last ride in my SUV, my nephew asked if I could drive like a maniac one more time, like I did when he and his sister were little, and they’d sit in the third-row seat behind Ricky in the middle. I obliged. Music blaring, car weaving, latest chapter ending.
