“Love. It’s what makes a Subaru, a Subaru.” The cheesy slogan bounces around my head long after the com- mercial ends. A jingle that I find myself reciting along with the voice from the screen yet never put thought into what it actually means. I have a Subaru. Like any other car it is made to transport, to get me where I need to be, but what does “love” have anything to do with these cars? Never did I fully understand this jingle until it related so greatly to my own life. I believe my Subaru did more than just get me to where I needed to be; it allowed me to connect to people in an unexplainable way, and it paved a pathway for one of the most important friendships in my life.
When I was fourteen years old, my older brother Jacob managed to pass his driver’s license test. At the time, I would have never thought to give what in my opinion was an unfocused, dumb, irresponsible and an annoying teenage boy the ability to drive a car. We didn’t quite get along at this age. However, if some lunatic at the DMV was going to put us all in danger by giving him the right to drive and my parents were going to add to that crazi- ness by giving him a 2012 Subaru Forester, I thought I may as well use it to my advantage. On Thursday nights I had volleyball practice about twenty five minutes away from home, and he reluctantly picked me up from every one of them. I would hop in the car sweaty, bruised, and tired from an exhausting practice to find him listening to music so loud the entire car was shaking. Usually, one or two of his friends tagged along for the ride, and we soon formed what we called “Thursday Night Dinner.” Pretty self explanatory: every Thursday night Jacob, his friends, and I would get dinner after practice ended. This seemingly simple, casual dinner became a tradition, and it continued even after the volleyball season came to an end. The rides home from practice allowed for my brother and me to start getting along and getting to know each other. I believe that Subaru was the root of our friendship.
My family travels a lot. On winter weekends we can be found shivering in the New Hampshire White Mountains, and in the summer we would not be anywhere other than by the ocean. The frequent trips require a lot of car travel, and with the newly licensed member of the family, Jacob was able to drive us to these places independently. Eventually we began talking and not just short conversations the two of us typically shared but real-life, mature conversations. This car became a safe place for the two of us to talk. We talked about things that we did not want to tell our parents, discussed politics and music, vented about school, friends, relationships, and so much more. At times it was just me talking at him, everything I said entering one ear and immediately going out the other. Even if he was not always listening, he gave me the time to unload my thoughts. I became eager to get in the car. It gave me the chance to explode with all the new information or gossip I had to tell him. Jacob became somebody worth talking to as he was surprisingly helpful when it came to giving me advice for petty friend drama or talking me down from school-related stress. Our friendship turned into one I valued over many others. I was so proud to have a sibling who I could also call one of my best friends, even though I may never admit that to him. I believe I owe this important relationship to the Subaru, without it we might have never formed a bond so strong.
Two years went by and it came time for him to take his life to the next level: attending college at the Univer- sity of Colorado Boulder. As this was happening I was nearing the age of sixteen and getting ready to take my driver’s license exam. One day, my brother and I were driving back from our summer cottage about forty-five minutes from home. It was one of the last days that we would be together before he took off for school, so it was a no-brainer that I took the car ride with him rather than going with our parents. Without any suggestion, he began to show me all the little things to know about the Subaru. From things as simple as the buttons on the radio to the button that opens the gas tank, where the manual was to all the secret compartments in the car, how to pair my phone with the bluetooth to how to set the car into cruise-control; he spent the whole car ride teach- ing me all of it. This was his way of passing the car onto me. With our constant car rides coming to an end, it seemed as if a little piece of our friendship was ending as well.
A few weeks later, I obtained my license and inherited the beloved Subaru Forester. I cannot explain why, but this car turned out to be so much more important to me than I thought it would be. When my brother returned home on college breaks we instantly fought over the car, how could we not? It was our most prized possession. Although it became something to compete for, whenever we drove together the same feelings of comfort, open- ness, and trust immediately returned, only now we had even more to talk about. I learned about college classes, professors and parties, new people he had met, exciting places he had gone to and more. Occasionally, we transitioned from these meaningful conversations to random car ride sing alongs. Never did I imagine driving with my brother singing to songs I only ever sang when with my friends. Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield, Firework by Katy Perry and Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen to name a few. I found so much joy in this time spent in the Subaru with my brother. I never wanted it to end.
June 29, 2019 was the day I thought could have quite possibly ruined the friendship we had. I begged to take the car for just one night, so my friends and I could travel to Cape Cod to visit our friend’s beach house. Since he was planning to take the car with him across the country in the fall, he allowed me to take it for this trip. Jacob understood that I was so excited for this opportunity to spend time with my friends and to start off our last summer together before college. In need of this mini-vacation, four of my friends and I loaded up the Subaru and embarked on the journey.
My friends and I were driving through the twisty roads and ramps that make up Boston. We soon got spun around again and again, the GPS constantly rerouting. Confused and frustrated, surrounded by my sleepy companions, I felt completely alone in what was to come. I approached a confusing intersection but finally could see the on-ramp I longed to be on after so many confusing turn arounds. I watched the traffic light change to green and stepped on the accelerator, forgetting how bad the glare was on the road that day. I failed to see the next traffic light switch to red and quickly crashed into the driver’s side of another car. It all happened in the blink of an eye. One second I was driving, and the next thing I knew we were on the side of the road staring at the crushed Subaru, its pieces scattered on the road. The first thing I did was check to see that everyone was uninjured, but I could not stop all my attention from focussing elsewhere. How am I going to tell Jacob? What is he going to think? Will he ever forgive me? These questions projected themselves through my mind for hours. This car, our car, was gone. Later that day he finally heard the terrible news, I was waiting for him to burst with anger and frustration and for him to blame me for ruining his plans for the rest of the summer. Instead, he approached me with a hug, all he cared about was the fact that I was unharmed.
Since then our relationship has remained the same. I truly believe the Subaru was the foundation of our friend- ship, and our siblingly love originated from the Subaru. Even from opposite sides of the country, Jacob and I remain as close as ever. When important events come up he continues to be my go-to person. I believe that the statement, “Love. It’s what makes a Subaru a Subaru” describes the power these cars possess as it encompasses a major part of my life and how my best friendship was formed.