Tony Vinh


Into The Sunset.


I bought this guy with 80k miles on it hoping it would last me 3 years. Today... 7 years, 3 states, and countless drives to open mics and comedy shows later, I finally had to say goodbye at 188k miles.

I sold it to this nice Mexican man who said he was buying it for his kid, whom he brought with him to get me to knock a $100 off the price. I did so, even though his kid was 6 years old and didn't look like he could even ride a bike. Let's be honest, my car is already filled with work tools and is carrying three ladders on the roof. Sigh.

I know, it's just a car, right? I'm not so sure. Is it possible to be bffs with a vehicle? Or maybe even more?

I once ran out of gas on top of a small mountain in Texas and coasted all the way down to the bottom on empty with it. Take that, big oil companies.

I drove it through 4 blizzards safely and with warm, heated seats. It may have been warm because I peed in pants.

I've slept in it many times in between gigs or when the motel a club booked me in looked like a place where I could be murdered.

I had a lot of dates in it where, at the end of the night, we drove this guy right to the Friend Zone.

It had a tape deck where I could still listen to my Bel Biv Devoe, Jodeci and Ugly Kid Joe tapes.

It had a DVD player for kids to watch in the backseat, even though I never had kids. But my dog really enjoyed Zootopia, Air Bud and Homeward Bound. Man, it still smelled like my dog. Not in a bad, noticeable way. Just a scent I would recognize.

And I transported so many dead bodies in it. Just kidding. Or am I...?

This was more than a car to me. More than just a friend. It was home. Wherever I was, wherever I was headed, it was always home.

Thank you for our time together. I will miss you.