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Dude, do you remember the first time we met? It was a day before my 20th birthday. It was a Friday night. I just came home from a 2-hour commute from UPLB. There I was, a young bright-eyed loser ecstatic at the sight of you. There you were, looking so cool. With a big ribbon over your roof. You were so cute. There we were. Staring at each other. I knew instantly that we would have a very special relationship. And I was right. It was the start of one of the most enduring and fun relationships I will ever have. Oh, if we only knew what adventures lay ahead. Sigh.
Remember when we brought you to a Sunday mass? After the mass, my dad invited the priest outside to “bless” you. As the good priest was baptizing you, I fondly remember the moment I gave you your name.
“And I shall call you… Fucker.”
Remember the first time we went to the beach? I set up a tent where I planned to sleep in, but my other friends beat me to it. I ended up sleeping in you. You kept me warm that night. You made me forget how pissed I was with having other people sleeping in my tent and not saving a space for me. But it was a good thing. I got to protect you from insidious beach people and sea monsters.
Remember that time when some asshole broke your glass on your rear end? I was so pissed. I cried over it. Yeah, at the time, I was doing a lot of “macho” stuff, but the sight of you bleeding glass all over the street and on your insides, it just broke me down. Every instance that you got hurt, I got hurt too. And I know all those times when I just stayed inside you to be alone and to break down, I knew I wasn’t really alone. You were there to keep me safe from the world. You’re my Fortress of Solitude.
Remember the girls we brought to the malls? Remember the girls we brought home? Remember the girls we brought to places they haven’t been to before? Good times, good times.
I will always remember our sound trips. Our gimmicks. Our escapes from sticky situations. Our adventures through the expressway to Heaven and our misadventures through the highway to Hell. Our journeys. If you could only talk, I know you would’ve told me “You’re an idiot!” a million times already. Believe me, I know. Half the time, I’m this big jackass of an idiot. But you made me look cool. And I thank you for that.
We’ve had a lot of memories, man. We’ve been through a lot. You’re not just a black RAV 4 in my eyes. You’re a friend. My friends even talk about you like you’re a real person. That’s probably because I consider you to be one. Whatever happens in the next few weeks, I’ll always consider you a friend. If it were up to me, I’d like to keep you forever. I’d like you to be there when I propose marriage to The One. I’d like you to be there on my wedding day. I’d like you to be the one who’ll be with me when I bring my wife home from the hospital after she gives birth to our first child. I’d like to hear my teen son ask me “Dad, pwede pahiram si Fucker?” on his first date, and you to witness me tell him “Hell freakin’ no.” I’d like us to visit my grandchildren on Sundays. I’m still thinking if I’d like to conceive my children on your backseat.
It would be nice when everybody else is driving past our house in their flying cars, and we’ll just be there on our driveway reminiscing about the good old days. It would be nice if I get to keep you forever. It would be nice.
