death of a funhog

 "The oil pressure just dropped to zero, guys. Is that bad?" 

Chorus: "Yeah, pull over." 

We were rounding a bend in Salcha, coming home from the Wilderness Classic, in my red Subaru. We got out, checked the oil, looked fine. 

"Let's just keep moving."

Almost to Forest's dad's house on Chena Hot Springs Road, Subaru lurched going up a hill, spun out with high rpms, and died. She hasn't moved under her own power since. 

I here celebrate the life of this vehicle. 222,111 miles. A gift from Adam and Carrie Bucki, who wanted Subaru to die in Alaska, not Texas (or on the way to Texas). That was five years ago.

About $1,000 for a new clutch and four sweet winter tires, and she was good to go. To the North Slope, caribou hunting. To MacComb Plateau, same activity, twice. Dawson music fest. Two wilderness classics. Firewood hauling. Dozens of trips to the dump. She gave so much. 

But now I want to get her out of my yard. First $600 takes home her sound chassis, four new Blizzaks, four extra rims, and her bad oil pump. I know there's some Subaru wiz out there who will take this challenge. This is the official car of Fairbanks, after all.