Rouge's Last Ride: A Love Letter to Four Wheels and a Big Personality

The Emotional Resilience Wheel Gets a Flat

So there I was, explaining to Rouge—my cherry-red Tesla Model 3—that we'd successfully completed a 13,444+ mile electric odyssey across America. Three times. THREE TIMES across this beautiful, chaotic, peace-pole-studded country.

"We did it, girl!" I said, patting her dashboard like she was a horse that had just won the Kentucky Derby. "We proved that climate action can be joyful! We inspired nine people to buy EVs! We—"

That's when the drunk driver sped straight at us.

CRUNCH.

The Tow Truck Confessional

Now Rouge and I are being hauled to the towing yard, and honestly, it feels like a therapy session on wheels. Except the therapist is totaled.

"You know what's ridiculous?" I say to Rouge, who's giving me the silent treatment (understandable, given the circumstances). "My Emotional Resilience Wheel scores were PERFECT. Reflection: 10. Meaning: 11—I didn't even know you could score an 11! Self-Talk: 9. But Connection? Six. SIX, Rouge. Maybe if I'd scored higher on Connection, I would've connected with that drunk driver's better judgment."

Rouge's silence is deafening. Or maybe that's just the powertrain as shook up as I am.

"Okay, fine," I continue, because apparently I'm having a full conversation with a car that's currently tied to a flatbed. "Let's do an emotional inventory. Rituals: 10. Remember our charging station ritual? Pull up, plug in, find the nearest biz with a bathroom, write an article for World Pulse about women pioneers and climate leadership? THAT WAS A SOLID RITUAL, ROUGE."

I swear I hear her wipers squeak in agreement. Or maybe that's just the tow truck hitting a pothole.

The Silver Lining Search Party

"Boundaries: 9," I tell her, scrolling through my Emotional Resilience scores like they're going to magically resurrect her. "You taught me boundaries, Rouge. Like that time in Kansas when I wanted to drive through the night and you were like, 'Girl, I've got 53 miles of range left and the next Supercharger is 47 miles away. BOUNDARIES.'"

Rest: 8. "I'll admit, we didn't score high on rest. We got nine people to buy EVs though! Nine! That's... math... let me calculate..."

One of the new EV drivers had this to say, ""We absolutely love the TESLA. What a change from driving a MErcedes S580. Absolutely blown away by the simple tech that makes daily conforts so worth while. We are fully converted, thanks to you. Now Veronika and my son want one as well."

Rouge would've calculated it for me. She was smart like that.

"Movement: 7," I whisper. "Well, we're definitely moving now. Just... horizontally. On a tow truck. To your final evaluation."

The TEDx Talk Rouge Never Got to Hear

"You know what the universe is teaching me?" I ask, my voice cracking like a phone screen after meeting concrete. "That even my bodyguard, my entertainer, my jester, my navigator, my confidant, my DJ—even YOU—can be taken in an instant by someone else's poor choices. And I have to find meaning in that."

Meaning: 11.

"The meaning is this, Rouge: You helped me prove that one woman in an electric vehicle can drive across America three times, visit Peace Poles, write articles, arrange Rotary speakers every week, transition leadership at WILD Foundation, AND deal with family surprising me by moving from Alaska—all while exhausted and re-navigating my purpose. You were my climate action proof-of-concept with a killer sound system."

Joy: 10... and 1.

"Ten for every mile we drove together. One for right now, saying goodbye to you in Holbrook, Arizona, in case they decide you are too much trouble to repair."

The Conversation She Can't Have Back

The tow truck driver looks at me. "You okay over there?"

"Just saying goodbye to my car," I sniffle.

"I get it," he says. "I once had a '68 Mustang. Cried like a baby when she died."

"Did your Mustang help you advocate for peace on Earth by 2030?"

Long pause.

"No, ma'am. But she had a real nice carburetor."

The Silver Lining (Finally)

Here's what I know, Rouge: Years from now, everyone will drive EVs. This transition from internal combustion engines to electric vehicles is as inevitable as horses to cars. You were a pioneer. WE were pioneers.

And yes, I'll need to replace you. But you taught me that climate action isn't about perfection—it's about persistence. It's about showing up, even when your Connection score is a 6. It's about rituals and boundaries and rest and movement and reflection and meaning and self-talk and joy.

Especially joy.

Even when joy scores a 1 on the hardest days.

"May Peace Prevail on Earth," I whisper to Rouge as we pull into the Holbrook lot.

And I swear—I SWEAR—her horn sounded as we turned the corner into the lot and lights flicker one last time. As though she were waving goodbye.

"Peace, Rouge. Thank you for being my ride-or-die. Literally."

Epilogue: The Lesson

Emotional resilience isn't about never getting hit. It's about how you keep driving—metaphorically speaking—even after the crash.

Nine EVs sold. One epic journey completed. Zero regrets.

Well, maybe one: I should've scored higher on Connection, and not the connection with the drunk driver.

But there's always the next road trip. Hawaii EV's perhaps?

My bEARThday is coming up this week. I'll drive to the first Peace Pole in Coachella Valley planted by La Quinta High School Interact Club. May Peace Prevail in All Our Places. In case you want to join in the celebration wherever you are, let me know here. Plug IN, Charge UP! Zap the Gap between war and peace