I can still remember approaching that old beat up brown and tan Mercury Monarch. With its scratches and dents, 698XNJ would patiently wait for me, parked on 94th street under the old maple tree. Its motor running.

Inside it was warm on blustery New York winter days, cool on muggy summer afternoons and dry when the sky would cry. And there was you, smiling brightly as I pulled open its passenger door and jumped inside.

The aroma of freshly brewed java greeted me as you’d reach deep inside the crisp white bakery bag to hand me coffee – milk, no sugar. I’d hold the cup with both hands and sip slowly. Its warmth filled my body as I’d anticipate the black and white sugar cookies to follow.

For a few stolen hours every afternoon you’d be a child and I’d be a woman, as we’d lock out the world from inside our four door house. 698XNJ wouldn’t judge and didn’t care how others would view us. A silent accomplice to our love.

With an ashtray full of Marlboro and Tarrytown butts, 698XNJ would sweep us through the world in a protected environment. Part of the whole, yet apart from it all. Its aging tan leather seats would cradle us as we’d watch seasons change through two half moons on the windshield, speeding on parkways or just sitting at the airport watching planes in silence.

It wasn’t always silent. But 698XNJ would never tell. It would never spill our dreams to a world that would crush them with cold realities. It was tolerant of a relationship others would frown upon.

Sometimes our laughter would drown out its dashboard radio. Other times, when frustration consumed our thoughts, the sound of its gently purring motor would ease the deafening silence. Even when I’d slam its passenger door in anger, 698XNJ would return for me. Just as welcoming, just as understanding.

That old Mercury Monarch was there with us through it all. The good times, the bad. The beginning, the end. A good friend, a constant companion and trusted confident. 698XNJ was as much a part of our romance as you or I.

I’ve searched highways and interstates for 698XNJ. But Mercury Monarch’s are hard to find these days. And I’ve been in many other cars, but they’re just a means of transportation. If I’d only known that in no other car could I relive the emotions I experienced within the steel doors of 698XNJ, I might not have closed the door so quickly.