I was lucky enough to have a father who taught me to work and who forced me to study, despite having been born in a poor neighborhood with few opportunities.

In my last couple of years at university, I bought a scooter, which was stolen (with the help of one of my coworkers).

That made me work harder.

Then, together with my younger brother, bought my first car. A very beaten-up one, of course.

2 years later, I could have a car by myself.

That was decades ago. Since then, I’ve had many cars, from the used, smallest and cheapest units to new, fully equipped ones.

I just realized that there is something I have always left in those cars, which at those special moments becomes not a device that takes me from point A to point B, but more like a refuge and a sanctuary.

It’s been mostly when I’ve been at the wheel when the engine hasn’t been started or the music has been playing.

Most of those times, the windows are rolled up, my hands are clutching the wheel, my eyesight is lost in the horizon, and I spend many minutes in a particular position because the pain doesn’t allow me to change it.

What I’ve always left in those cars has been tears.

The heartbreak, the treason, the cheating, the lies of those whom you loved and who didn’t reciprocate. The discovery of situations that you cannot believe even when you’re watching and hearing the truth, the reality.

Tears.

I have left tears in most of my cars. Sometimes, they’ve evaporated after a wipe and have penetrated the fabric ceiling. In some others they’ve fallen to the seat, never to be extracted from them, not even with bubble shampoos or vacuums.

I’m not sure the sounds of my crying have a way to stay at a microscopic level in those cars, because when you’re in your car, although you feel isolated, there are always people passing by, so you try not to make sounds, although you want to cry out loud, the way we do when the pain is insufferable.

So, I don’t know the sounds. But tears are there; they’re still in those cars of my past; they’re there in my current car.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has left such mementos in cars.