One of the very first cars I remember riding around in was my dad’s manly blue Pontiac Tempest. It was a battle tank of a car … a brick house (mighty, mighty). I remember hearing him say, “We could tangle with an armored truck and this car would probably win.”

He also nicknamed the car “Old Blue”, even when it was still relatively new.

Old Blue would start up in the coldest of January temps.  Old Blue would nearly fling you through the windshield with just the slightest tap of its brakes. It was a part of the family for well over 15 years.  When my folks generously purchased my first used car, my only preference was that my car was blue.  Guess I wanted to pay homage to the recently retired Tempest.

I’ve owned three cars in my life … all bright blue. My last one was a shiny Acura Integra that I bought new in 2000. I was going to drive that thing until it dropped. Unfortunately, it dropped last week when I totaled it during an unfortunate auto accident.

They came to tow the car away today and I’ll be the first to admit, I shed a tear.  That car was my first big boy purchase.  I catered to its every whim. I talked to it like a crazy person. I got it serviced long before the required maintenance dates. I made it breakfast in bed … er, carport. I refused to drive it in inclimate weather.  And I always chose the “new car” scent when I got it washed to keep it smelling like the day I got it.

And, like the Tempest, I called it Old Blue even when it was still under warranty.  The car always got plenty of compliments … probably because I always kept it pristine.  In all the years I had it, I never had a single thing go catastrophically wrong with it. It took a licking and kept on ticking.

I once picked up Mr. Olympia Jay Cutler in Old Blue and shuttled him around for a couple days while he was in KC. While sporty and trendy, it was not designed to accommodate a behemoth bodybuilder. I remember Jay asking if the “seat went back any further” about five times. I figured he’d eventually just rip it out and sit comfortably in the back seat.

A few years ago, I got the chance to interview my television idol Lindsay Wagner.  After the segment, Lindsay politely asked me to drop her off somewhere.  Mercifully, I had the car detailed the day before, so it was immaculate. On the way, Lindsay mentioned she was hungry and wondered if we could grab a bite to eat. I spent a majority of my day regaling stories with my childhood crush.  Old Blue purred like a kitten sensing that TV royalty was both bionically present and bionically accounted for.

For years people told me to get a new automobile … but I always said the same thing, “I love this car and I’m not giving it up.”  Old Blue was a comfortable shoe … one that I loved with every fiber of my being.  Final mileage was nearly 260,000.   About 100 miles of that was driven by my goofy British cousin who freaked out approximately every 18 seconds because we “stupid Americans were driving on the wrong side of the road.”

The car I’m going to get to replace Old Blue is a sensible black Honda. I wonder how long it will last before I have it repainted in some sort of Indigo, Cobalt or Midnight?