Opel Astra Obituary


With all the people asking, I thought it would be appropriate to explain what happened to my car.

Towards the end of December, I parked it at a carpark near the Islands Brygge metro station in Copenhagen, and next to the southern campus of Københavns Universiteit (Copenhagen University) just prior to going overseas for what I expected to be a short time, but unexpectedly ended up being quite a long time.

While I was away, the carpark became a construction site. Just prior to this, signs were posted warning everyone who was parked there that the area was to be cleared and to move their car before a certain date (sometime towards the end of January) otherwise the car would be towed at the owner’s expense. Since I was overseas during this time, the car was towed.

The vehicle was held at a police impound for about a month after which a notice was sent out to come and collect it with the warning that if it wasn’t collected within one month, that it would be scrapped.

I was still overseas.

The car was scrapped.


Always reliable, always fuel-efficient, and always with unbelievable amounts of cargo space. This car has been an essential part of two separate address changes, as well as (as can be seen above) a significant contribution to the Danish speed skating program. She has taken me as far afield as Paris, Oostende, Inzell, Salzburg, as well as destinations closer to home like Berlin, Heerenveen, and Malmö. We never did get around to making that lap of the Baltic sea, or around the Black Sea, but in the two years I had her, made a considerable contribution to her odometer.


I’ve spent thousands of lonely kilometres inside her, driving through rain and snow, in darkness and in light, and past the flash of far too many German speed cameras. She took me to curling practice when I was too lazy to ride my bike for the 45 minutes it takes to get there, she took me and a car-full of Danes to short track training in Sweden during the winter season. She was an essential part in many insanely-intricately-planned trips which began in Copenhagen, went through Hong Kong, to Malaysia, then somehow ended up in Italy, before ‘finishing’ in the Netherlands, then eventually making the ‘quick’ trip back ‘home’ to Denmark. She spent a lot of time in the long term parking at Schiphol airport…

Many times I’ve found myself sleeping in her warm cabin, protected from the elements while taking a ‘power nap’ in the middle of a long drive. There was even a time when I kept a small mattress in the back for precisely this purpose. They say home is where the heart is, and my heart seems perpetually on the road (metaphorically, and often literally). Even though I generally insist on living in a city large enough and with good enough public transport that one doesn’t need to own a car, very few things represent my wanderlust and perpetual need for a freedom to travel as much as a car, and that car is now gone.


Among the many things I did with her, my favourite would have to be my summer ice camps. We’d load up the car and drive to Inzell, singing car karaoke, sometimes with a broken air conditioner and open windows, have about 10 days of training camp on and off the ice, finish with a race, then drive home, often stopping at a random Ikea to eat Swedish meatballs for dinner. Sharing her love was what gave the car life. And now the car will share no more.

She will be missed.


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