When you’re 16, nothing feels more exhilarating than taking your parents’ car on a drive for the first time by yourself. The feeling as you grip the steering wheel gets more intense when you own a car and can stop asking for the keys. The keys to your first car are the keys to freedom; no more asking for rides to and from sports practices or to Friday night football games.

It took me about two years to save up for my first car. A neighbor sold it to me after his dad had passed it on to him when he left for college. I was approaching my sophomore year of college and longed for a car to go on target runs with.

My car was my escape, literally. It was an escape from my dorm and my parents’ house in the summer. I would turn on the ignition and drive to the closest peaceful spot.

Although my car was 15 years old, it ran well and was the home of many firsts. It held all my belongings as I moved to my first apartment, brought my first dog home and was even the car where my niece took her first car ride after leaving the hospital.

Naturally, my Subaru and I had some bad times, too, like a double flat tire by the Dollar General on East Street, cold startups in the winter and sitting in summertime traffic with the windows down because the air conditioner didn’t work.

I knew my first car wouldn’t last forever, but I hoped it would make it to graduation. That way, I could say my 2003 Subaru legacy made it through 2 college graduations: my neighbor’s and my own. That would have been one smart car.

About a month ago, my car started to fail. Week after week, it was a new repair, and I soon knew it was time for the car to retire. I called local junks and asked how much they would take for it. I knew I wasn’t going to receive much, but when they told me they would only give me a tax right-off, I felt insulted. I am 21; I don’t need a tax right-off. I need textbook money.

Eventually, I found a local junk with a good offer. I called around 9 a.m. expecting them to tell me they would come to get my car in a few days, giving me enough time to mentally prepare my goodbye to my first car. Instead, the worker told me he would pick up the car in half an hour.

I ran down my stairs and sat in the car for as long as I could and listened to the radio one last time before he got to my house. I watched my old metal box get towed. I always joked that the car was the only thing of value that I owned, and now it was gone.

Since our goodbye, I have bought my first “new” car, but the feeling is not the same. This car comes with responsibility and promises to drive me into my post-graduation life. I still have some of the cute decoration from my first car, but I’ll admit I still occasionally drive with the windows down out of habit instead of turning on the air-conditioner.

So, if you’re still driving your first car, do me a favor: treat it well and sing your favorite song in the car before it hits retirement.