If I had known yesterday when I called to have the car towed--because of what I thought was a faulty starter--that this would in fact be the last time I saw the car, I might have made a bigger deal out of our goodbye. It turns out that the faulty starter was not a faulty starter at all but a dead engine. The car worked on Saturday, but on Sunday morning when the kids and I piled in to go to the Target, it wouldn't start. I guess you can say it died in its sleep. When I think of all the places I could have been left, stranded if the car had conked out at the wrong place or the wrong time, I'm pretty grateful that the old Explorer decided to give out peacefully parked in front of the house.