So long, Silver Bullet

I sold my Airstream. Even in making the statement, the pronoun has become obviously wrong. It has ceased to be mine.

It's actually been a few weeks since the neighbors' complaints finally got as high as the mayor's office, and we were faced with the reality that we'd have to take whatever we could get for it just to get it off the street.

This wouldn't have been nearly as frustrating if I hadn't tried to make sure we could park it there before I hired a towing company to move it. Or if any of the information we received from the various police officers and neighborhood volunteers had been consistent whatsoever. Even to the very last visit, the police were contradicting each other about the interpretation of the law.

I miss the trailer, but not the hassle. And since the damage done by parking it on the street was only the first stages of what would certainly have been a long, protracted demise, it's probably all for the best. Like so many of the vehicles I sadly said goodbye to--the Rambler American, the Beetle--you've gone to a better place.