That’s Odo. Odo came to us in a tough time as a very welcome gift. We’ve done lots of road trips in addition to the usual to-and-fro of work and school and errands. Some 100,000 miles later, after things got worse, much worse, and then better and much better, Odo semi-retired to the driveway while I drove around in my shiny new Prius.
It was a semi-retirement because Odo still took the odd trip to Tahoe, or spent a while with other people who were between cars. Odo was like that, ready to lend a tire when needed.
Odo was trying to do it again. My brother was between cars for a short period, and Odo jumped into the breach. Apparently jumping was too much for Odo’s rear. The normal grumblings of age in the back end became an alarming scraping. Odo had to be towed home yesterday on an auto trailer since the back end was so doubtful.
For the moment, Odo is resting peacefully in the driveway. Later today I will be calling around to donate Odo—one more last good deed that Odo can do.
It makes me cry. But death happens, even to the best of us.