Penny-Wise and Car-Foolish.(Column)

Byline: Dutch Mandel

We all have ways in which to grieve. For me, writing provides catharsis. My sister Olivia, The Human Resources Maven, hater of all things automotive, surprised me the other day as we neared the second anniversary of our dad's death. She wrote, and she wrote about cars. What she shared is an insight for people everywhere:

When a tree falls in the forest and lands on a beloved family-member car, do we know what hit us?

The killer maple-100 feet tall, two feet across, burdened by heavy snowfall and hellbent on destruction-couldn't be stopped. Not by a sauna roof or the expanse of drive between its roots and its target: Penelope, the '98 Honda Odyssey my father sponsored to make the ride safe for his grandchildren. Penelope's predecessor didn't have airbags sufficient to assure Dad that Maddie and Alex were safe. He named her Penelope after the patient and clever wife of Odysseus, who kept that absent ruler's kingdom and progeny from harm.

Our Penelope did, too. She safely ported the kids to preschool and elementary and into junior high. She ferried sweaty teenagers through Oregon's rainy, dark afternoons. She cheerfully, dependably carted Brownie Girl Scouts to mud-encrusted pumpkin patches. She camped, she trekked and she toured.

Her end came while parked in a driveway. During a rare Oregon December snow a huge and ancient Douglas fir fell into a stand of maples that in turn collapsed, domino-style, onto the sauna roof and then onto Penelope. She didn't know what hit her. Two tow trucks later-one for the tree, the other for the car-Penelope was off to the morgue.

How hard could it be to replace a car? It was, after all, just a car. Any new-model family ride is certainly safer than she was, and many are bigger, plusher and cleverer. The 2004 Odyssey is a five-star hotel with ...