The first week of fall term was full of music, new students, familiar faces and free coffee samples.

People adjust to the hectic life of a college student filled with the stress of quizzes, homework and making it to class on time. As the pressure builds and workloads increase, students may begin to panic and be overstressed by this new way of life.

My first year at MHCC was the same way. I took 18 credits each term, worked on the newspaper, interned and worked at my regular job. As I look back, I know I couldn’t have done it without Gunther.

Whenever I wanted to get away and not deal with anybody, he would be there and make me forget about my troubles and worries. Our bond and my own fondness for him grew more and more as the year passed. He was always there for me and I was always there for him.

Gunther is not who you might think he is. Gunther is a green 1993 Ford Escort. He has dents, key scratches and a poorly painted bumber. He beeps for no reason and his engine sounds like flubber powers it. He has old Starbucks cups, fast food bags and VHS copies of Olsen twin movies. He smells of dog and coffee.

He’s not the best car ever created; my pleas to get on MTV’s “Pimp My Ride” are still unheard, but he’s my car. He was given to me as an 18th birthday present from my father and he is my responsibility.

Within 90 days after receiving Gunther I got into my first accident. He lost his front grill and his hood no longer closes properly. Less than five months later I got my first speeding ticket. All inside my “steed” I call Gunther.

Gunther has proven me time and time again that he’s a fighter. Last spring term, he proved his worth after I locked my keys in the car. I didn’t realize all this had happened until I went home late that afternoon. After having Public Safety break into my car, jump starting it and taking him to a mechanic; no new battery was needed and Gunther was ready to go.

Sure, he’s still falling apart and I mock him because of it. But I depend on my car and deep down inside, I love my car. Underneath the dents and key scratches lies freedom that doesn’t involve midterms or a useless math equation.

Sometimes, gas and time willing, I will drive Gunther around Gresham with no destination. Even in his old age, I know it’s good for him to stretch his tires out and enjoy the open road without traffic and stoplights.

I know he won’t last much longer; maybe a year if I’m lucky. But the memories of being locked out of my car in Taco Bell, midnight Slurpee runs, racing (and beating) that newer car on Burnside will stay with me because he is my freedom from school, work and family.

So when term papers are beginning to stack up and nothing is going your way, find your “Gunther.” It can be a video game, pet, friend or in my case, a car. Find your freedom.