Saying farewell to Little Red isn't easy

By Robb Murray

Twelve years ago, as I drove my brand new baby girl home from the hospital — and cursed the city for allowing such gaping potholes to exist on a road where 2-day-old infants would be driven on their first car ride — Little Red was there.

When I discovered Springsteen, and used every spare opportunity to go for a drive and play “Jungleland” way, way too loud, Little Red was there.

When a man was shot in Kasota and I (and other media) arrived to chronicle the event — as townspeople milled about in mixed states of confusion, anger, fear and despair — Little Red was there.

And on the day our family decided to donate one of our vehicles to the Minnesota Valley Action Council’s Wheel Get There program, Little Red was there, too. That was the day I said good-bye to Little Red, my friend, my 1995 Toyota Tercel.

It was easy at the time. We’d been quarreling, Little Red and I. He wasn’t braking like he used to. Took him forever to defrost his windshield. I was ready for a change. Power steering would be nice.

And then I started thinking about all I’d been through with that car and how, even though the car I drive now is newer and nicer, there’s still a bond between Little Red and me that refuses to die.

My wife and I acquired Little Red — also known as “The Red Rollerskate” to my kids and their friends — in 1995. We pooled the cash from our dollar dance along with the checks in the wedding cards and whatever cash we had in our billfolds and headed over to Heintz Toyota. We’d seen the Tercel in an ad and we resolved to make the salesman go lower than the $9,995 sticker price. We failed.

We brought the car home anyway. It came with no power steering. No radio. No passenger side mirror. No electric anything. This was the base model of base models, and we loved it. It was the first new car either of us had ever owned, and we treated it with respect.

My wife drove it at first. I still had my pickup, which I loved. Guys love pickups, and I loved my Ford with the kick-ass speakers. Eventually, our son was born, which prompted the exit of the Ford, the entrance of the family mini-van, and the introduction of me as primary driver of the Tercel.

We bonded immediately. It was fuel-efficient, and I liked that. It was red, sporty, spunky, climbed Main Street hill on the slickest of winter mornings. It’s little, like me (in height, of course), and I began to identify with it. Eventually, everyone else began to identify me with Little Red, too.

Whenever I’d head up to the MSU campus I’d get a few honks from passing cars, or waves from back-pack-toting students. An inseparable pair, we were. Our bodies — mine with a few extra pounds, his with a bump here and dent there — had seen better days. But our hearts were young and strong.

A few months ago, on the day I dropped it off at MVAC, I refused to think about all we’d been through together. After all, it’s just a car, right? And even the best of cars eventually need to be replaced. And I’d already had Red’s replacement in my driveway.

I left Red with Dan Jones at MVAC, hopped into Tim Krohn’s Nissan and headed back to the newsroom. And that was it. Little Red would go to someone else. I figured I’d never see him again.

Until Thursday.

I called MVAC this week to talk to them about the Wheel Get There program and to see how busy they’ve been this year with donations. And while I was on the line, I asked whether it’d be possible to talk to the person who got my car.

A few phone calls later I found myself pulling into the parking lot of the Huntington Hills apartment complex. I turned left, looked for the address, and finally I could see ... Little Red was there.

His new owner’s name is Katy Shaw, and although I was ostensibly there to interview her for a story in The Free Press, I was really there to find out a little more about Red’s new owner.

This was Katy’s first car of her own. She’s an animal lover, like me, and she uses Red to get to the Blue Earth Nicollet County Humane Society where she volunteers. Like me, she eats sunflower seeds in her car, and the floor shows it. She’s a little quirky. Some have said the same about me.

Most importantly, she loves Little Red. She said she knew the moment she saw it that it was the car she wanted. She loves the color, the way it takes off, the fact that, even though she’s quite tall, it still give her plenty of leg room (a feature I never put to the test).

I left feeling better about leaving Little Red. He’s in good hands.

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