I don’t need to tell anyone that breakups fucking suck, we all already know that. I recently had a breakup that fucking sucked and, to be frank, still fucking sucks a couple weeks later.
If you’re familiar with how much breakups fucking suck then you’re probably also familiar with the concept of a “rebound”. You (or your ex) “rebounds” from the grief of losing your/their best-friend and lover with someone new, typically within a week or two of the event itself.
I’ve never really rebounded from anyone, out of my five relationships I was too grief stricken to even consider considering a relationship with someone new for at least a month afterwards (though the residual heartbreak lasted far longer in most cases).
This time, I have been left feeling the same way, the thought of even thinking about someone new is like a slap right to the ol’ brain. But…
I have loved vehicles for as long as I can remember. No, I’m not a true gear-head that knows every detail about cars, can tell their mechanic how to do their job, and name every car or bike that passes by on the highway, but I love them nonetheless.
I have owned eight vehicles in my short (five years) of being able to legally drive, though two of those were “rented” from my parents.
My first was a shitty mini-van, a early 2000's Honda Odyssey that I felt embarrassed to drive, but it was something to drive. I crashed it a week and one day after getting my licence (I joked that I crashed it on purpose, it wasn’t on purpose).
To be fair, as a brand new driver, I wasn’t expecting someone to stop in the middle of the fucking on-ramp! As I was looking over my shoulder, I came to the realization quite suddenly that what I really should’ve been looking for was right in front of me, and promptly rear-ended the ramp-stopper, who turned out to be a very chill guy despite his not realizing what a on-ramp is for.
I haven’t been able to stand people that slow down instead of speed up on the on-ramp since.
My next vehicle (also borrowed from the ‘rents) was a Honda Civic. This car was my baby for two years despite my having to share it with my dad. I drove the thing from NH to Key West, NYC, and many pointless late-night trips to Boston (my dad has a ’73 Moto Guzzi El Dorado that he ride all though the spring/summer/fall (and that I’m pretty sure he loves more than me) so I had plenty of car time)
It wasn’t long before I was craving a vehicle of my own, though. My buddy had been teaching me to drive stick and I was determined to get a manual car of my own, to impress whatever girls I was driving with, of course.
That car came in the form of a 2011 Mazda 3, a car that treated me very well and in which I got nearly $1000 worth of tickets and a police chase with that somehow ended in only a ticket for running a stop sign (yeah, I had issues and white privilege).
I became an expert at stick shift and still love manual transmission to this day, I fully believe it can improve anyone’s driving ability and “feel” for your car, manual or not.
The next three vehicular purchases were of the two-wheel variety, my death wish phase.
The first was a adorable little red Kawasaki Ninja 250r. The top end was right around 90mph, which I hit frequently on my rather sketchy rides on the highway, still getting passed by SUVs and jacked-up pickup trucks.
I was thirsty for more speed and found a fantastic deal on a 2004 Suzuki GSXR 600 within two months of buying the 250. It was only 350 more cc’s, how dangerous could it be? Quite, as it turned out.
The day after purchasing the bike I hit about 100mph on a 30, going down hill, and promptly locked up the brakes, sending me flying about a football field away.
My only memory of the incident is rolling without being able to stop then standing up and looking at my destroyed new bike.
Somehow, I escaped with nothing but extreme road-rash, my helmet saved my life that day. I still wake-up from nightmares replaying the ordeal.
Bouncing back from the agony of sticking to my sheets and ripping off a mixture of skin and gauze for a month, I decided the right thing to do was buy an even faster motorcycle, a 2007 Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10r.
Being completely incapable of learning from my actions at this point in my life, I drove the thing only slightly less dangerously than my past bikes. I managed to survive my whole nine months or so of owning it, though, and never actually had the stones to bring it to it’s stop speed or learn how to wheelie (thankfully).
I sold it to avoid being tempted to do the above.
With my money from the sale of my 250cc and 1000cc beauties I bought what ended up being the worst car I’ve ever owned, a early 2000’s six-speed manual hatch-back Nissan Versa for $1800.
The car was in absolutely disgusting condition, rusted to shit, and ran like shit. Bringing it in for inspection, I got slapped in the face with $1300 worth of repairs to the exhaust and fuel pump, only to be greeted with a strange rattle for the bank-emptying expense.
This car made me hate driving for awhile, I did everything in my power to avoid driving it, I’d rather ride a bicycle to wherever I was going then ride in that shit-box.
At that time in my life, I was working a soulless corporate IT job at a major insurance agency and became terrified at the prospect of getting stuck in a full-time job with benefits trap. After a mere nine months of working I needed to escape in a big way.
That was how I ended up selling the shit box, purchasing a 2007 Triumph Tiger 1050 through wire-transfer in Los Angeles, and flying out to ride across the country. Near the end of March 2020…
The pandemic ended up cutting my ride short (planned on spending a good two months on the road but made in back in two-weeks instead).
The bike treated me exceedingly well on the journey, never broke down, survived through a lonely class-VI road in the middle of Gila National Forest, through long desert highways, and a 10-hour ride through 40 degree weather in pouring rain from Maryland to my home in NH (a ride that turned my toes blue and gave me deep middle-stage hypothermia).
I sold that bike about six months after the ride, the high-mileage made it a tough sell despite it being a touring bike.
I spent most of 2020 without a car or bike, I could get rides from my girlfriend or friends and borrow my parents or brothers car when available. I also started riding a bicycle to work.
My life to that point had been somewhat defined by my vehicle of choice so it was an interesting change to the car-less, bike-less life.
That all changed just two weeks ago with the break up of my long term (for a 21 year-old) girlfriend.
I’m an emotional guy, what can I say. I’m not afraid to admit it. I get attached to the people I love and I can’t let them go for a long, long time.
This girl had been through some of my hardest times, she had agreed to stay with me on my motorcycle trip and the thought of returning to her embrace helped me through the hardest, loneliest, lost-liest portions of my journey.
That’s all gone now.
I was girlfriend-less, and vehicle-less. That just wasn’t going to work for me. So I rebounded, not with a new woman, I still can’t begin to think about that, but with a brand new automotive love, the best car I’ve ever owned.
Just to be clear, I am not sponsored in any way by this automobile manufacturer, I doubt if anyone will be reading this article anyway!
My rebound, my baby, my new love, is a 2015 Volkswagen Passat TSI SE.
She’s high mileage but in near-mint condition, not a scratch or dent on her, might as well have come right off the factory line, whoever owned her before me must’ve loved her too.
It’s a little embarrassing to admit how much time and money I’ve spent on this car already, I’ve just never owned anything so nice in my life.
It may just be a car but it’s a car that is there for me in an emotionally tumultuous time and I love it for that.
I’m not going to be the guy that gets in a relationship with his car (God, I hope not, don’t need to see my face on TLC) but I can confidently say that rebounding with a vehicle has been far healthier than diving straight in to the dating scene or wallowing in self-destructive misery.
Maybe we should all be rebounding with something besides a new relationship, most of them turn out shittily anyway, right?
To the few of you who understand what I’m talking about, who know what it means to bond with your car or motorcycle or whatever you’re riding, to remember your history based on what you were riding or driving, our wheels (or wings or hulls) help define who we are, get us through the toughest of times, and give us something to love when it feels like the world has gone cold.
(Oh yeah, I got a gym membership too, probably a lot more helpful than anything else I’ve described here to be honest…)
