Robertoski: Saying goodbye to my Russian Tank

I woke up this morning before the sun even came out. I don’t necessarily dislike waking up early. As a matter of fact, I prefer it. But this morning was different. This morning, I was saying goodbye to my little tank.

When we moved to Ecuador five plus years ago, one of the first things we did was get some wheels. I initially thought I could get by with public transportation, but I quickly changed my mind. My father, a car enthusiast, helped me hunt down a model he had owned when I was young, reminding me of the adventures we had with it.

A Lada Niva, he said. There is no place in Ecuador where they won’t take you. They’re budget friendly and they also look kind of cool.

With the help of a friend of his, we went out looking for one in the Andes. You could say it was love at first sight. Blue, my favorite color, and still all original. A classic, untouched by the homogenized modernization of car design.

When my wife arrived a few months later, we took that car everywhere. It really can go anywhere, and there are world records to prove it. Over the years and many, many miles, we changed the seats, repaired the engine head, and kept it running well up until about three months ago.

You could say it was a combination of factors, but mainly funds running dry and cars somehow synchronizing their breaking. If that’s even a thing.

First my mother’s car broke, then ours. And us, like good kids, ended up footing her bill too. At any rate, the market taking a downturn and our patrimony shrinking didn’t help either.

Here’s the deal though, and I don’t know if I’ll be grateful tomorrow for what I’m doing, but I suspect I will be. I’m not willing to sell at these prices. Fixing everything and paying the bills would mean pulverizing my holdings and removing myself from governance on this chain. I can’t bring myself to do that. Am I insane?

So the natural thing to do was to say goodbye to Roberto. Yes, I named the car.

When I penned the last signature on the document, it really hit. This is it, I said to myself. We walked outside and I told the new owner I had forgotten something in the glove compartment. I wanted to say goodbye properly, to sit in it one last time.

So I did...

A few hours later, we took the bus home and made it back to the farm, finally collapsing into bed. Both my wife and I were exhausted from the travel and the lack of sleep.

I wish I could say I sat at my computer today and got productive, but that would be a lie. I’m too deep in melancholy and nostalgia, and I feel like taking a day off won’t kill me.

In the end, I guess I just wanted to write a short entry on this little blog of mine about Roberto. My Russian tank, as I called him. Robertoski.

I hope his new owner takes good care of him.

MenO