Payback, as they say, can be a bitch.
I just heard from the dealer that the repairs to my car will be over $770. Ouch. It needs a new read fluvinator and some gloppleglinks. Or something. All I know is that it rattles like a fuck. I guess it's time.
$770. Ouch again. It's a lot of points on the AmEx though. But, I just did some ciphering and came up with this: It costs me $40 to tank my car up. I do it all of once a month lately. Were I still living in NJ, that would be twice a week. So, I'm waaaaaay ahead on car expenditures. $770 hurts, but it could be worse I guess.
Plus, I owe my car a little more TLC than it gets. I love my car. I really do. And, this is not one of those "Guy with a little dick who loves his car" stories. True enough; I do have a little dick, but the car is not there to compensate. The banana in my pants is.
I love my car because it works. From the time I got my license in August of 1992 until October of 2000, I drove a parade of shitboxes; each one on death's bed. Let's recap:
First Car: Well, I kinda "expected" a car when I turned 17. Everyone at PreppyMcRichSchool got one. One kid I knew turned 17 and showed up the next day in a brand new red Mercedes convertible. She plowed into a curb in the parking lot and broke the axle damn clear in 2. The next day, she was back at school in a 2nd brand new Mercedes convertible. There had always been an unspoken understanding that I'd inherit the Audi when I turned 17. It was a 1983 4000 Series and it was sweet. Instead of a car, I got TheItalian. He came to live with us and got "my" car. So, I was car-less, but had a new older brother. Yea, I was happy. I got to drive the Audi when he wasn't out chasing tail in Central NJ or home in Rome.
2nd Car: When my father lost his company car (and job), he took the Audi back. The Italian bought a used Mazda 626. It was a stick, so I had to learn how to drive the damn thing. All in all, it was a good car. It had a lot of fun buttons on it, a sunroof and other niceties. I got to use this when The Italian was away in Italy.
3rd Car: In the summer of 1993, I wanted a car. TheItalian had sold the Mazda to a friend and got himself a huge green Grenada. It was the worst piece of shit I've ever driven. JewelrySlut wouldn't even get in it. It smelled bad, had rotted floor boards and really didn't work. So, I bought a car. I bought an old Datsun for like $1100. A 2-door hatchback. It wasn't great, but it was MINE. I washed it up, put in a new stereo and was OK with the world. I brought it to school that fall and parked it around campus, usually one step behind the parking police. Then, one fine January morning while on Semester Break, the transmission on it died. It died one morning while I was driving to work. It died in the middle of the old Somerville Circle. (For those of you not from Central NJ, you won't get it. Those of you who knew the circle may have just thrown up. Needless to say, this was not a good place to lose the ability to operate your car). So, the Datsun died.
4th Car: I think 2 things happened once the Datsun died. Well, maybe 3. 1: My father was tired of driving the Audi and wanted a real car. 2: He knew that if I didn't have wheels, I couldn't come to work. And, since I was his most productive employee (machine operator), he needed me there. 3: Maybe...having taken the initiative to spend my own money no a car, they felt bad for me. Anyway, the Audi was finally mine. Good times abounded. It ran like a charm and got great mileage. The Audi and I enjoyed good times together. Until...
Driving to Maryland one Friday night in 1995 to go to a conference, I was in an accident. Sitting, stuck in traffic, in Baltimore's Harbor tunnel, some un-insured asshole rear-ended me. The front end was all fucked up. The insurance company totaled the car. I took what meager scraps they gave me and had the front end bent back into shape enough to drive it. But, the car was never the same again.
5th car: For graduation, my parents "gave me a car". I got to drive my mother's Dodge Shadow. Thanks. It immediately started falling apart. Hunks of it would fall of at inopportune times. I drove it for about another year until it literally started falling apart. The engine was ripping away from its mounts and parts were falling off. Since we had no money (me and JewelrySlut), my parents took pity and helped me buy another used car.
I'll add here that part of their reasoning was that my brother was graduating soon and they wanted him to drive the Audi. I didn't want the Shadow. It was a hunk of shit. Well, L'il Bro took the car and promptly crashed it into something and killed it. They bought him a used Camry. It ran like shit, so they bought him a new Extera. They'd learned their lesson with used cars.
6th Car: The other Mazda. This car started out OK. It was nice enough and ran well. Then, it and I had an incident. One fine NJ morning, I was driving to work across Route 80. I worked in Englewood at the time, so I drove pretty much the width of Northern NJ. Well, anyone familiar with Northern NJ knows where the Marcal plant it. Well, I was going 70 in the left lane when my transmission just up and croaked. Dangerspouse probably mentioned me on a report that day because I royally fucked up traffic. Well, now I had no car. And, due to some financial wizardry, we owed like $3000 in taxes. And, we had moved in to the house just like 8 months ago, so we were broke. I remember crying in the laundry room when it all hit me. But, with help from Mon and Dad (who I think felt bad for making me buy the Mazda in the first place) helped out to get the car fixed. It ran well for a while and then had more transmission problems. Another $1000 went down the drain. But, the car persevered.
7th car: I took a sales job in early 2000. It didn't go well. It landed me over $5000 in legal bills and a trip to Federal Court. On the bright side, I got a company car. I got a new-ish Camry. It was sweet while I had it.
8th car: The awful sales job over; we decided it was high time to get me a real car. My father in law worked for a division of Daimler-Benz so we got my car on an employee discount. I bought a 2000 Intrepid. It's red. Her name is Veronica. I have a Powder Puff Girl hanging from one of the mirrors. I have a Mickey Mouse antenna ball. I have a mystery sticker on the back. (I want, one day, for someone to see it and know what it means. That would be sweet). Veronica's awesome. I pounded over 100,000 miles on to her in under 5 years. I've never done any real repairs. Nothing has gone wrong. Shmuppie came home from the hospital in this car. I've driven it everywhere. It rides smoothly (well, it did until about 3 weeks ago), gets decent enough mileage and all together rocks. When we bought her, I was like a little kid. I finally had a new car. I had a car that worked. You didn't have to put one hand on the brakes, another on the radio and use your teeth to start it. Nothing of the sort. It just worked. The past year has been Veronica's retirement. I just went 10 months between oil changes (and, yes, I asked if this was OK and was told that it was) instead of 3 months.
I love my car. So, if I have to put nearly $800 into some new Glibulators and some plinkleplonks, I'm OK.
That's my car story.
Shmuppie is at camp this week and next. Woohoo! Too bad, I'm back in PA next week. That's too bad. But JewelrySlut will enjoy her solitude I'm sure.
Work sucks. Last week was awful (the 2 hour+ delay coming home was a nice touch). But, I think the clouds are parting a little bit for me.
One more thing: