“A car’s purpose is to get you from Point A to Point B.”
—Tom Seitz (my dad)
Meg and I heard that quote a lot growing up— and we lovingly roll our eyes about it now.
You see, my dad loves cars. My parents love to drive. Mom and Dad each owned a variety of cool cars before they ever got married. Sports cars, convertibles, European driving machines— you name it. Cars evolved in parallel with their lives, shifting in size and practicality when adding car seats and dogs to the mix.
Deep down, I know they both still love to drive— I do, too.
But there is something about driving that old, familiar car that just feels—good. With windows down, it feels quite meditative to go for a drive with no destination. (When was the last time you did that? Go take a drive, just for fun— see what happens.)
This week, while visiting my parent’s house, my mom asked if I wanted to take the car in the driveway for a spin. That car is our 1992 red 240 Volvo—“Little Red” to us.
She’s the first thing you see when pulling into their driveway— serving as the greeter and visual indication that says: You’re Home. Our family moved a lot when I was a kid; our 240 was the stable, steady, through line, driving me through childhood.
The 240 is the kind of car people pull over to ask about— it’s that kind of old-school-classic. Everyone identified our Volvo from miles away— and it quickly became synonymous with our family.
There is no crazy/cool technology, no alert warning you to avoid that curb— and while you feel the gears shift when driving up a hill, one stellar overdrive button gets the job done.
Little Red drove us all over the country, accumulating thousands of miles. As kids, Meg and I divided the backseat— naturally between my side and hers. It drove from Texas to Florida to visit Gram and Poppy. It saw highways, the drive-thru at McDonald’s, and rainy day bus stops. Spotting it in the car pool line meant one thing: Mom. I learned to drive and parallel park in that Volvo; I practiced my voice lessons in it. One New Year’s Eve, my dad and I were hit head on by a car that crossed over its lane into ours— the Volvo took the entire impact. We walked away without a scratch.
Over the years, hundreds of people joined our adventures inside those 240 walls.
Two years ago, my parents considered selling it— and I firmly petitioned we keep it just a little bit longer. It felt comforting knowing the 240 still lived with us— I think some of my favorite kid memories still float inside it. Keeping it in the driveway felt like a sure-fire way to keep those memories close, easier to access.
I know now the time is coming for my parents to sell it. And while I understand that seasons change, letting go never feels linear or simple.
Our Volvo feels forever a part of us— an honorary family member. She’s seen the good, the bad and the curviest roads tackled in life.
That car cradled a lot of prayers and conversations. To me, she served as more than a car—she served as a sacred, safe space. A space with real character and an ability to listen. In Adult World, I’ve come to understand that’s a worthy combination.
Our dear 1992 red 240 Volvo accumulated a good amount of miles along the way. I did, too—my own life miles. And here’s what I know: The best stuff never feels flashy. The best things (and people) hold excellent character. The best feels simple, safe, comfy. It knows its lane— a lane where you honestly cry, talk, laugh, pray, sing— without judgement. Find this kind of sacred container— an honest, safe space— and when you do, cherish it.
Maybe my dad is right. The purpose of any car is transportation from Point A to Point B— but I offer this caveat: perhaps those points are not the linear map kind. To me, they’re points in my life, age 4 to 37.
That red 240 Volvo drove me here— to 37, my personal Point B. And it packed one heck of a journey— three decades worth of miles and memories. Thank you for every single one, Little Red; I’m forever grateful.
Save one more drive for me.
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What a great tribute to the “Little Red Volvo” that could and did a lot!! We do owe that Red 240 a lot of thanks for all the safe miles and memories from the last 33 years, don’t we! Thanks for writing about our “Little Red Volvo”!