"I'm sending you a picture. Don't freak out."

A married couple of 37 years can call each other on the phone this way.

It could mean a cell phone shot of a winning lottery ticket. Or not.

Last week, it was Or Not.

I was standing in a dark office with my co-workers pondering the power outage that had just occurred when Brad called on my cell phone.

"I'm sending you a picture. Don't freak out." Click.

C'mon lottery ticket! Baby needs new shoes!

It was not to be. Instead I opened this -- a sad picture of  a somewhat mangled Go-Kart, our sporty little red Honda Civic. Aside from some pretty impressive Technicolor bruises on his left arm and a stiff  neck courtesy of air bag deployment, Brad was okay. And that's the important thing. Period.

It was the other driver's fault. And miraculously she had insurance -- something I can't say about the two fender benders I've been involved in. (BOTH were the other drivers' faults, OKAY!?) Even better, both insurance companies have been champs. And yesterday, the Insurance People declared the Civic totalled.

It's not an easy loss, the most obvious, and annoying, piece is that we're back into a car payment of some sort. But on another level. . . . it was my step-dad Frank's get-about car down in Portland for years until we bought it from him and The Mom Unit as they downsized a few years back. Frank's gone now -- he died five years ago this Labor Day weekend -- but The Go-Kart was one of his special gems -- we still have all the service records with notes in his handwriting. It's hard to watch a small pocket of happy memories towed away in the rain along with a little red car.

And one other completely different, superficial note: Despite it's humble origins as a Civic hatchback, the Go-Kart was fire engine red and kicked ass.

Truth be told, and shhhh, only now I can confess, the Go-Kart and I totally ripped up the road on a couple driving trips between Bermtopia and Portland -- country western and/or NPR (now THERE'S an oxymoron) cranking from the radio because the car didn't have *gasp* a CD player. It was a 5-speed but the GK could haul.

Poor Go-Kart, you'll be missed. You were special, even coated in bird poop.

And we'll always have Mister Car Wash.