I find myself sitting here today, shrouded in a thick layer of dust, a testament to the years gone by. My tires, now as flat as a plateau, lie motionless, and as I look at my once-bright exterior, now succumbing to rust, I am flooded with memories of the good old days when my wheels would spin tirelessly, propelling me forward.
In my prime, each journey was an adventure. My primary purpose was to transport people to their destinations, but I became part of countless stories along the way. I witnessed students sneak out to skip lectures, revelling in the thrill of freedom. I played a silent role in love stories, often serving as the third wheel, as couples shared laughter and whispered sweet nothings during drives under the stars. I became a shoulder to cry on during heartbreaks, providing solace to those who needed a moment to grieve their lost love.
As the years passed, I watched my owner grow and evolve, eventually creating a family of their own. I was there through milestones—school runs, family outings, and even the little moments that made them laugh. Sometimes I was adored, taking them where they needed to go; other times, I faced frustration, being treated as just an old vehicle in their busy lives.
Now, after countless rides through the bustling streets of this city, I find myself at the end of the road, finally resting forever. Each scratch and dent on my body tells a story, and while my journey may be over, the memories I carry will linger long after I am forgotten.
