I just sold my beloved 1997 Nissan Maxima GLE (pebble beige exterior and matching leather interior), and I feel so bereft. It’s as if a family member just died. A gleaming new sea foam-colored 2013 Ford Escape sits snugly in the driveway, awaiting my command, yet I’m sadder about losing my old car than I am excited about owning my new car. Even though I sold my car to a charming guy and found it a good home, I still feel the pang of loss.

If my old car had been a bomber or a lemon, my feelings would be different; I’d be glad to see it go, like a bad boyfriend who had stuck around too long. But my Nissan was always so reliable, so comfortable and fun to drive. It never broke down or left me on the side of the road. My Maxima always started right up and never gave me a moment’s worry. No wonder my relationship with it bordered on love.

Why are we so attached to our cars? Is it that our identity is tied up in them and we feel they are an extension of ourselves, like some bionic fifth limb? Maybe it’s the way we feel when we drive that sticks with us, and makes us love the car that gives us that feeling. Really, even if you’re not a “car person,” you have to admit that a car that’s powerful, fast and fun to drive makes you feel on top of the world.

Or is it simply that our car is our constant companion on life’s journeys, whether a trip to the grocery to buy milk or a trip across the country to start a new job, a new life? It’s always along for the ride, so to speak.

I bought my Nissan Maxima right after I moved to California for my job. The dealer delivered it to my office on my lunch hour and showed me all the bells and whistles in the parking lot. That was the start of my love affair with my new car and with California that has continued right up to today.

At age 56, I’m now closer to 60 than to 50, and well aware that many losses lie ahead as I age. Growing old is just one long laundry list of losses as far as I can tell, and I’m not looking forward to any of them. Selling my old car reminds me not only of all the things I will have to to get rid of in the future, but also all the people whom I will lose. The thought is daunting.

Fortunately, I’m still at the age where I can enjoy a new car and enjoy driving it fast, on a sunny afternoon in California, with the moon roof open to the sky and the sound system blasting some ancient Rolling Stones song out the windows. Excuse me, but I need to take my new Escape for a drive.