Eulogy
Dearly Beloved,
We are virtually gathered here today in front of our screens to remember a fallen friend. A brother born of sweat, tears and iron from American union workers. Some of us know him better than others. Some of us had good times with him. Some of us laughed at him at first but grew to love him and dare I say, envy his owner. The demise of the Lincoln, My Lincoln or as I called him, "the Link," was a sad and stately event in my life. It went a little something like this...
It was a rainy cold Thursday in May. The universe colludes with us sometimes. I sat in the dealership looking at several hungry and overly eager sales people. That day I needed more than a customer service representative. God provided.
Russell was more than just the Honda car representative. He became a new friend. A Lincoln aficionado himself, he immediately sensed the loss and really served as a grief counselor for me. Sure, he knew the Kelly Blue Book trade in values, he learned the history through car fax but there is something metaphysical, even ontological about owning a Lincoln and letting it pass.
Russell knew I could not replace the the midnight black, mocha leather interior, bling’ed in chrome from head to toe, 8 cylinder, gigantic trunk space, signature series town car. Russell knew Lincoln's are never really replaced but remain alive in their owners memories and still breath in the thousands of future sighs as a former Lincoln owner slides into a non Lincoln car. He knew it all and he knew no words were the best words. So we silently mourned as the parts guy drove it around back.
The Link and I were an icon in Grand Rapids. I could be spotted from a mile off on a clear day. Remember though, you could not hear me until I parked the car and opened the door. Ahhh, the stealth mode of motion was one of his nicest and lasting features.
We had hard times too. Yes, I would pass groups of people and get looks and a few gawks and sneers. People are so judgmental. We took back the diminutive tag of “ghetto sled” and gilded it with pride and people grew to not only respect the features and long sleek look of the Link but agree in admiration of its features. Its virtues were obvious to all and inspired people to want to gain those virtues for themselves. This is the language of sainthood, people! Just like the Saints of old, who had perfected virtuous living and encouraged millions to live more Godly lives, the Link had perfected the virtues of Vehiclehood and inspired thousands.
Don’t laugh at me yet. I know we all tend to glorify the dead and only remember the good. This is human. This is natural. However, my Grandfather who spent years in the Army as a jeep mechanic and 40 years at Grand Rapids Auto Parts, told me with wise words and deep proven conviction that the 1991-1997 Lincoln Town Car is the best American car ever built, even daring to say, we perfected this model car. Today he weeps with me as another brother falls to the wayside.
Yes, the Link is gone and we must move onto the next mile marker of life. But it is okay to grieve, to miss. Just the other day, I was driving and saw another black Lincoln turn down a side street and my heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Is that him? But I said to myself, “Self, let it go.” And that is what we must all do. Grieve but move on.
So friends, the next time you see me, it will not be smiling in my familiar black Link enjoying the soft sofa of a ride but rather breaking in the awkward but functional 2004 White Pacifica.
So let us take our hands off the computer mouse and pick up the beverage to your right. Pour some of it on the floor for another homey lost but not forgotten and then let us toast the next chapter in our automotive journey.
Good night and God Bless Lincolns everywhere.