Nothing's permanent. Everything's on loan here.

I'm a little heartsick about it, but my car is toast. LouLou the Babyshoe has served me well for eight years and 165,000 or so miles. Still, I'd hoped to eke out the rest of school in that sassy little chariot. 

I don't know how or why, but the engine overheated. I glanced down at the temp gauge and the needle, horrifically, was firmly on the big red H.  I pulled over immediately and there was a bit of a squeak like a belt slipping for a second, but it was running and came to a gentle stop. I figured it was a fluke. I raised the bonnet and a wee bit of steam came out, but barely noticeable. 

Shoot. 

I hit something in the road recently but didn't see what it was, figure maybe it was a rock.  Don't know if I damaged a water line or the water pump went out, or if I just let it run completely out of water. The only given is that it overheated and dropped a valve and it took a bite out of this spark plug. 

It didn't seem all that dramatic when I pulled over. I've been diligent about oil changes. I thought this was a blip, maybe something harmless that unhooked or something. Turns out that little puff if steam was my noble mare giving her dying breath. 

I know it's just a car, and there's a lot of them about, and they are making more, but that one was mine and there were none like it.  I feel silly for it, but I feel sad about it. 

I also feel a great deal of anguish about the possibility that this happened as a result of my own negligence, and at the time of my adult life I'm least in the position to replace that important commodity. 

The LouLou is dead. Long live the whatever-is-next means of conveyance. But I'll miss LouLou. She was a good old gal. :(