The End

Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook know that "The Little Sad Engine That Couldn't" has found a new home.

Last week, I sold Subie for $500 to a cement worker. Ironicly, he already owns a Ford Ranger, and the gas from Mica Peak to work is killing him. (For those of you who don't understand the irony here, Tim rolled a Ford Ranger. We used to have the Subie stabled with a Ranger.)

This guy has owned a Subaru like this one before and got 285K out of it before it died. During the test drive, we discussed its problems, its abilities, and the little rattle in the dome light from the dislodged screw.

He was thrilled. He know what the car needs, is familiar with this car, and has the know-how to tinker with it.

As a part of the deal, we had loaded Subie up with her four mounted studs. I dug out the manual and gave it to him as well.

Friday, I passed him Tim's key through a coworker and called him to let him know who had it. He is still thrilled about the car--and I'm glad. Let the buyer and seller rejoice!

So after this, I realized this was somewhat the end of an era, albeit a short one--and I think Jesus would say that if little smoking cars can get second chances, how much more us?

And I'm giving myself a second chance too. I've dropped my pseudonym, Vernona E. Monteith. If I publish my fiction, it'll be under my name, and I won't be embarrassed about it.

To herald these events, I'm letting go of "The Little Sad Engine That Couldn't." You can find me on Truth, Fiction, and Faith by the end of the week.

Much love to you all, and if ever you see a little sad engine chugging up a hill or smoking down the street, be sure to smile, yeild, and wave.