Sometime early December of 2004, I was sleeping on my bed and my Pops woke me up. He told me with a smile on his face, "it's time to say goodbye to your car."

My dad rarely woke me up. When he did, it was because we had an exciting trip to make early in the morning. We didn't have any trips planned for that day. I thought my dad simply wanted me to help him with the car.

My dad would get up early to go to the gym. Instead of using his car which was parked within the house's garage, sometimes, he'd opt to use my car instead.

Chip, the name I gave the car, was a white charade. She was given to us by Daihatsu after we let them have advertisements in our show when I was a kid. After a while, it was given to my brother when he got married. Later, my brother got a new car, it was passed on to my older sister. By the time, it was passed on to me, she was old and graying.

She was my first car. And whether it was because of that or something else, she felt like she was alive to me and some of my friends.

I'd frequently visit this building with indoor parking. But somehow, I always felt uncomfortable parking Chip inside. I would instead park her under this big Acasia tree. And just like any horse, she'd be grazing while she awaited my return.

Friends would always ask me if they could ride with Chip. I'd bring them all home if they could all fit. But Chip was small. She had a 1000cc engine. When we went up ramps, we needed good momentum or we'll stall halfway.

What happened that morning that prompted my Dad to wake me up was something friends find hard to believe if it wasn't for the photos I was able to take.

My Dad did try to go to the gym. On the way, he noticed there was this feint smoke coming out from the Chip's engine. The folks having their breakfast in front of the stores all stood up as they saw Chip. It was like a standing obation except for the look of alarm painted on their faces.

My Dad pulled over. By this time, the feint smoke gave way billows.

Chip, wasn't just a car for me. She was more than that. She was old and rickety. When it rained, somehow water managed to seep in. I saw one inch tall shrubs growing on her carpet once. Still, she'd provide shade from the glaring Manila sun. Chip's back seat was also where I stored all my research findings for my thesis. I spent months gathering the piles of paper that eventually became the second layer of seat cover my friends sat on when they'd hitch a ride. If I lose my research, I would have to spend another year in college.

One week before the morning my Dad woke me up, I had this unsatiable desire to organize my life. It was really short-lived. I passed by National Bookstore Katipunan and bought a green box. My neat-freakiness quickly dissipated once I stuffed all my papers into the box.

When my Dad realized Chip was really about to go, he looked behind for things that need to be salvaged and saw my green box. He brought it home safely and I finished my thesis that same year.

I was groggy that morning. I didn't even brush my teeth. I didn't think you need clean teeth when you only need to push a car back home. I intended to go back to sleep and savor more of the Saturday morning. But as we were driving I saw a pillar of smoke coming from behind houses. It was a block away. I looked at my Dad and his smile was true. When we turned a corner, I saw small firetruck giving Chip what I later learned was to be Chip's last bath.

I was shocked. But my Dad's smile calmed me.

Chip was a sight to behold. There was a gathering crowd. All with fearful faces. Joey, our mechanic arrived with a hangover and a bucket of water on each hand. My Dad had to stop him. My Dad said "it's okay. It's time to say goodbye." The neighbors were amused. Joey started crying. I asked him what was wrong and he reminded me of the countless hours he spent on Chip. We gave the parts they recovered from Chip to Joey. It was a small token to show how much we valued the services he rendered Chip. But I kept the plate number (and eventually left it somewhere I can't remember LOL).

It took my Dad less than ten minutes to get a tricycle ride back to the house, wake me up, and drive back to the scene. And yet, by the time I saw Chip, her steering wheel was reduced to a 5 millimeter thick wire. There were only springs left, where there used to be car seats. The dashboard and the rest of the uphostery including the carpet that once served as the nursery bed for that tiny shrub I found one morning, all reduced to soot.

Later I decided to post about Chip. I wrote my first blog entry as a Tribute to Chip. I lost the original article. This post was a sad attempt to remember Chip. I'm not even sure about the dates. But all my friends were affected by what happened. And they all paid tribute to Chip in their own ways, mostly with a comment or two. That was Chip, Remembered.