week seven

Lucius Junius Brutus stabbed his best friend Julius Caesar, emperor of all of Rome. Most people remember him committing one of the largest acts of betrayal of all time, and arguably bringing down one of the most powerful empires. I just know him as Brutus, and he comes in the form of my 1991 Volvo.
My world doesn’t consist of much. All it entails is my group of ten best friends, my family, and Brutus. Looking at him it appears that he doesn’t consist of much either. I like to think that he’s held together by love and runs on hope. The seats stay together with duct tape, the headlight is missing the glass, and if its night time and I need to brake, whoever’s in the back seat is required to hold up the brake light, which is only still attached to the car by a few wires. But he is my car, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
Before I got my license, and before I got Brutus, I was stuck as far as the bus would take me or as far as I could walk. When I sat in Brutus for the first time, sure I was cramped by the low ceiling, and the car phone kept bumping my knee, but there was only one thought going through my mind: “I can go anywhere and I can do anything.” Those late nights, early mornings, and long drives with the destination usually unknown made me believe this more and more.
I grew up that first summer I owned Brutus, and every major lesson learned happened while I was sitting in the driver’s seat. I got my first lesson on losing some one I loved while with Brutus, when I got the phone call my grandma wasn’t going to live to see the next week. That summer I went to live with my grandpa in Alamo, to have him get used to not having my grandma around. It was just Brutus and I that took the hour long commute every other day to see him. It was Brutus that took me to deal with funeral arrangements and to the cemetery. And it was Brutus that helped me realize that you should cherish everything you have before it’s too late.
Not all of my memories in Brutus have been sad; no most have been quite the opposite. I learned that no matter where I am AAA can come unlock your car, if your car won’t start how to jump a battery, and that if your car breaks down your going to need a lot of people to push it. Most importantly though I learned that in every one of those situations it’s good to have the friends I have. The friends that no matter where we are, or what predicament Brutus and I have put them in, they will always help me figure it out.
I was once told by a good friend that she knew it had been a good night if she saw Brutus’s tail lights drive away. During that summer my friends and I took countless trips to San Francisco, the beach, and everywhere in between. Usually getting to where ever we were going by piling too many people in a too small Brutus. The sun roof became a group favorite; while I would drive my friends would turn up the music and put their heads out the sun roof while waving to confused pedestrians. There was constant laughing, singing, and dancing on the many trips we took in him. I have never felt closer to a group of people, then when my friends and I had long late talks in the backseat of Brutus. It was there that I realized its okay to trust people and that there are people in this world that really do love and care about me and have my best interest at heart.
I took my first road trip in Brutus, A group of my friends and I decided that it would be a good idea to go camping. We convinced our parents, and the next day we over packed Brutus, and were off. The group of us ended up getting lost, running low on food, and getting scared about raccoons, but we did it all ourselves. The lesson I learned while driving Brutus home that last day was independence. That if I set my mind to it I could accomplish anything I wanted and that eventually I was going to have to, and could, do most things on my own.
My car isn’t much to look at, there is a large dent in the left side that looks like a bull ran into it, and when you brake it makes a bad sound. The speakers are almost completely blown out and the air conditioning doesn’t always work. But to me that car is everything. It represents my independence, my friends, and everything I have learned from having him. He might just be a ’91 Volvo, but he also brought down the Roman Empire.