Caught bang in the middle of a self-scripted soppy saga of last goodbyes is the Big Mama of them all.

Last night was the last drive with 2262. And by last, I really mean last, because I am not seeing her again.

2262 will continue life with someone else.

We've had her for 18 years now, and yet, almost strangely, we never named her. Choosing instead, to call her just 2262 (it's got a poetic rhyme to it).

Irrational emotional attachment with inanimate objects does not have a better example. Then again, anyone who has called her an inanimate object has suffered her wrath in the form of smoke from the engine bay, or exploding tyres in the middle of the night (in the middle of nowhere).

I have her to blame for my obsession with cars; I learnt to drive (and enjoy driving) with her. In steps. It began with dad sitting on the driver's seat, me standing outside and turning the key. It gave me an incredible high, feeling the engine come to life. It ended (somewhat) with me requesting my folks to let me drive her on the main road. On my twelfth birthday. Let's face it, it had been four years since I'd been driving her within the compound walls, that can get frustrating.

It's been a strange love-hate relationship. I've loved her so much that I've hated myself for being silly. And at times I've hated her so much that it's made me realise how much I love her (!).

The years are full of incredible memories.

Of drives back from Goa (non-stop), of ramming into a Mahindra Armada from behind (and leaving that despicable giant with no more than a scratch on the footstep), and of countless other memorable outings.

Of the 1200 km drive from Bombay to Kozhikode. A scarcely believable two-night, three-day saga of exploding tyres, busted oil caps, overheating engines ("Look Ma, smoke!"), leaking petrol and malfunctioning wipers. Of thunderstorms, sunshine, poor roads, spectacular roads. Of the Arabian Sea and the Western Ghats. Of every single futile attempt at overtaking 15 tonne trailors on winding mountain roads. Of every single autorickshaw that passed me by, waving a sarcastic goodbye.

It's been a long time. And we've come a long, long way from the time when I'd get to her ten minutes before the rest of my family so that I could use the windscreen washers and clean the glass (to the time when I have depended on the rain Gods to give her a wash in the past year).

It's been a long time indeed. And it refuses to sink in...

...that 2262 is the unlikely hero of this soppy saga of last goodbyes.

PS - For car owners, please change your vehicles every three years to avoid this sort of attachment.

PPS - For you, you've been the best, and it's a pity I've had to give you away. Thank you, and keep walking!