A Eulogy for the Flying Smurf

smurf3For show and tell today, I’m so excited to show off my NEW VAN! Well, new used van. It’s a few-year-old Toyota Sienna and I love it so much. Our trusted mechanic spent the day with it and said it’s in the best shape of any car he’s inspected in the last 3 months — nothing to fix.

My very favorite thing:
-Tinted windows in the back so I won’t have to hang 50 sunshades and pieces of brown plastic wrap on the windows of the car, only to discover that the one spot I missed is a hole the size of a pinhead, pointed directly at Laylee’s eye, burning it to a bubbling, boiling mass in its socket while she screams, “Mommy! Mommy! S’that BETTER?!!!!”

(she started saying, “S’that BETTER?!!!!” to mean, “There’s some light shining in my eyes. Please fix it now or so help me I will leap from this car seat and smash every last window in this piece-of-hud HOOPTY!” one day after I spent a lot of time swerving in and out of cars trying to get her into some shade and asking, “Is that better baby? Is that better?”)

Unfortunately, in with the new also means out with the old. And so on this December day, we say a fond farewell to a faithful friend, the Flying Smurf:


You joined our family during Dan’s formative college years. As Dan lovingly reminded me on Wednesday, you joined our family before I did. He loved you with a great love. You were his first car. In you, I sat close to him for the first time, riding love gun, when a group of us went out for milkshakes. I licked the ice cream running down the side of Dan’s cup to avoid spilling on your grey plush seats.

smurf2Dan kissed me for the first time in your front seat. We have laughed, cried and prayed in you. You took us on our first date. You carried us as we had our first talk about marriage — about how we didn’t want to rush into it. You carried us to the place in the mountains where Dan proposed — 3 months later.

You were the roomy vehicle who carpooled to book club and girl’s night out. You were a special part of this family and you will be sorely missed. You are the car we spent thousands “pampering” the past few years and then traded in at the dealership for a pittance. Sorry to sell you out. We don’t be hatin’, we just needed a new ride.

smurf4An addendum from DY Dad: “Dear smurf, I loved you. I bought the Chilton’s manual for you. I took care of you. I jiggled the wiring on the starter to get your solenoid to fire. I noticed right away when you blew your head gasket and got you taken care of, and I took you to get your transmission rebuilt. I personally replaced your sway bar links, brakes, and a tie rod end. I changed your oil, brake fluid, and rotated your tires. I loved the power you gave with your extra-big 3.8 liter V6. You only played the radio and tapes, but I loved your sound system, especially the conveniently placed volume lever. I loved sticking my gas receipts under your lovely carpet dash covering. You were worth so much more than that dealer gave us, baby, I know. But it was for a good cause, because I also got him to lower the price on the van, so in my heart I feel I got more for you. Good luck to you. I will never forget you. Farewell.”
~Flying Smurf 1998-2005~

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13 Responses to A Eulogy for the Flying Smurf

  1. blackbird says:

    (tearing up here…)

    A momentous day in the Daring household. The end of an Era.
    And I am proud, PROUD I TELL YOU, to be here, and part of it.

    Congratulations Daring Young Family.

  2. Karen says:

    I feel a lump in my throat. My condolences as you simultaneously grieve the loss but celebrate a new beginning. . .

    Was this also the car you brought your babies home from the hospital in?? Are you sure you shouldn’t have bronzed it and made a yard ornament out of him?

  3. Anna says:

    That’s sweet. I still feel nostalgia for my first car, even though it was falling apart. Congrats on your new van, though.

  4. It may be just a machine, but they really become part of the family don’t they? Good Idea to get some last pictures before trading in the smurf.

  5. Heather says:

    farewell, smurfalicious one! I remember the night of that first kiss. I believe you said something like… Sweet lovin’ tonight, girls. Sweet lovin’!


  6. Another fond memory: I worked on the smurf a few times with my Dad. Now that we live a zillion miles away, I’ll probably never work on a car with my dad again. *sniff* At least I’ll have Magoo to work with me.

  7. Brooke says:

    *wiping tears*

    Oh, I now you feel. Hubby’s car is on its last leg. We’ve had it eleven–yes ELEVEN years–and it’s brought all four babies home from the hospital. My husband has joked we ought to just hike it up on some cinder blocks in the front yard with a blue tarp over it. The neighbors would love it, I’m sure.

  8. Stephanie says:

    Yeah, there’s something about that first car…

    When we traded The Beast (’88 olds Cutlass Ciera) for our zippy 02 Mitsubishi, there was a definite sadness there.

    Beast was a good friend. I know that Smurf was too.

  9. bon says:

    the only vehicle I have ever been that sentimental about was my first motorcycle…alas she was stolen. 1986 Yamaha 650. sorrow.

    congrats on the minivan… that is one sweeeet ride!

  10. Suse says:

    Amazing how sentimental we become over our vee hickles, isn’t it?!

  11. GLHM says:

    I’m sorry but I am only feeling HAPPY Feelings for you!!! I am so happy you have that Sienna that I’m not even jealous! Loved all the stories of the car and think, they are now all written down in cyber world, never to be forgotten!

  12. You guys are so fun and nice.

    I will admit. I’m more excited about the new van than sad about the smurf.

  13. MommyMaki says:

    Congrats on the latest addition to the family 🙂 I was so happy when we got our subaru wagon 🙂 It’s so useful with kids and strollers!

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