Thinking of becoming a ‘car blogger’
June 27, 2007 | Filed under: Sucks like a vacuum, This side of the Hudson
“Take most people, they’re crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they’re always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that’s even newer. I don’t even like old cars. I mean they don’t even interest me. I’d rather have a goddamn horse. A horse is at least human, for God’s sake.” ~ Holden Caulfield
A few years ago, I went to Las Vegas and left my minivan with LB and her boyfriend at the time. I hated that fucking minivan, because it was a MINIVAN and I cannot emphasize the soccer mom-ness of it all. The smell of cleats and sweaty shin guards still hung in the air. There was still the cigarette burn that my poor influence of a neighbor put into the passenger side door. She was the one who introduced me to going to Dunkin Donuts in lieu of going to math class, how to inhale a Marlboro light, Kahlua, Smirinoff Ice, and how to properly escape from my house via the back door between the hours of 1 and 2 AM. If there is anyone that I can thank for my sordid heathen-like behavior, it would be her. Though thankfully my palate for alcohol has become a tad more refined over the years.
The minivan then was full of memories and so when I returned from Las Vegas to a car that wouldn’t go into reverse without feeling like it was actually having a seizure, I got out, kicked the tires, lifted up the hood, and then cried. Because I had no fucking clue as to what I should be looking for under the hood, but there was an engine, so that was a plus. It turned out that the one thing I found most abhorrent about my otherwise cushy life, was dying from transmission failure. In all of my knowledge of motor vehicles, I apparently missed the part where the transmission was key to the movement of a car and that transmissions also cost $2,000.
I had to whore myself out to the AAMCO guy in order to get a piece of metal that cost far more than the value of the vehicle that it was going to be placed in. It’s like giving your everything for an unappreciative child, who will still give you an attitude and be demanding after you’ve provided her with most everything her little heart desires including Coach bags and diamond studs. I finally knew how my parents felt.
That said, if ever I’m riding in a car now and I suddenly feel a jerky movement, my head goes into crisis mode. Though I skipped most math classes my Senior year of high school, I am still capable of figuring out how much is in my bank account before it hits deathcon 7 levels of lowness. So as my heart is dropping to my toes thinking about how fucking much I can put into a car, my head is thinking about how much babysitting (or whoring) can be done so that I’m left with a few grand and some dignity.
Though Ye Olde Sable returned beautifully remastered last week, yesterday I started feeling the jerky movements. I then sat in the parking lot at work putting it into gear and moving it in and out of the spot to see if it would work or do something or if the transmission would just fall out right there in front of my mother’s secretary’s window. I then moved the car back to check for leaking fluids and maybe took its temperature.
In DC it’s ok to have a car, which is why when I go down, I don’t mind flying and getting a zipcar or subjecting myself to various fares between arbitrarily made zones or getting groped on the metro. Here, in upstate NY, if you don’t have a car, good luck and god bless, because that’s pretty much the only form of transportation. Well cars, skis and ice skates and maybe a kayak or canoe. I’ve never been in a position to say this and really mean it: but if the transmission is what is the problem, then I’m getting rid of the sable and purchasing an actual a car. My very first major adult purchase, with like test driving and everything. I’m practically pissing myself with the excitement of the new car smell and hearing that my FICO score is 12.
Which reminds me; at some point, don’t let me forget to tell you about the time that JB, Pammy and I went test driving and the sales guy decided right then in there, in the Nissan parking lot, in front of the Xterras, that he wanted to marry Pammy. And the subsequent phone calls from him that ensued. Y’all, the man declared his love for her while asking me over my voicemail then asked when I’d like to come take a look at the Muranos.
Dagny says:
I say it’s time for a new car. Just imagine that new car smell.
gorillabuns says:
i feel your pain on herky-jerky movements and the frustration of money pits. i too have had cars with major issues. let’s just say, when you turn the ignition off, the car doesn’t die as well as, when you have to start the vehicle with a screwdriver propping some lifter thing underneath the hood, you start to rethink your life.
Jessica says:
I am trying to convince my sweetie that he wants to trade his truck in for a minivan in the near future. Because I’ll need it…and I still want the luxury of my sport convertible. Can I have it both ways??
girlgoyle says:
Junky cars…we’ve all had our share. The last truck I got rid of was so rusted through that when you lifted the carpet on the driver’s side, you could see the pavement fly by. Not being keen on ending up like the Flintsones I opted to sell it and joined the world of the forever indebted. Ugh.
GreenCanary says:
Be forewarned, the new car smell may be toxic and might KILL YOU! *scary dum-dum-duuuummmmmm! music here* Check it out: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9503413/. Others say it’s not toxic, but if past precendent holds any water, we’re all screwed. We can’t have anything nice!
mcgee says:
if it turns out that it IS the transmission and you WILL be buying a new car, congratulations!
i shall be jealous because i would love a car but can’t afford one. though seeing as how i live in san francisco, one might argue that i don’t NEED a car because there is the evil that is MUNI.
Angela says:
Oh man, I’m just stuck on the Smirnoff Ice comment. It’s sort of symbolic, I think, like, remember when Smirnoff Ice was “the good stuff” at parties and a purse from Guess was the hotness? Sigh. Life was so much cheaper back then.
Laura says:
Hey there, just dropping in to check out your blog. Found you on the facebook indie blogger group. I’ll be back to read more! Cheers.