You’ve been with me through it all, the good and the bad. You’ve listened to me while I’ve cried over boys or ranted about how much life sucks in that moment. You have watched me go through my ugly braces days and grow into the person I am today. You play my favorite music and listen to me belt out the wrong words. You have probably played more Lumineers songs than any other car. Thanks for standing out so much and not letting me go incognito while driving through the parking lots, because everyone knows who is driving you.

We’ve made some pretty amazing memories together; from the time I stuffed nine people in you and drove around the parking lot, to the time when I tried to drive you up a hill when there was an inch-thick sheet of ice on the ground, almost sliding to our death. Or the time when I parked you on a lawn at a graduation party and it started to downpour and two cute boys had to push you out of the mud, sorry for the mess that made.

In a few months, I’m going to have to say sayonara and it’s going to be one of the saddest goodbyes I’ll have to make. I know I complain about you a lot because you only have two doors, four seats, your windows sometimes don’t shut, you like to have a dead battery, and your door handle broke off, but deep down I really do love you. My younger brother Ethan is going to inherit you and I’m going to warn you, he is not going to take as good of care of you, so I am apologizing in advance. Don’t worry, I will come and visit you and until then, I am going to soak up all of the time I have with you this summer, driving around with the windows and sunroof down, pretending you’re a convertible. When I am walking around the Iowa State campus next year in the snow, I will be wishing I was sitting on your butt-warming seats.

Love, Hannah

Hannah Williams

Mini-Feature Assistant