Last night, some people in my class were talking about their first cars. They were remembering their 1994 Dodge Caravans and their 1996 Geo Metros somewhat fondly, but they were obviously quite relieved to have moved up in the world of vehicular transport. The whole time, I was like:
That's right - I still drive the car I bought when I was a senior in high school. It's a 2002 Ford Taurus that may look tan, but it's actually Arizona bliss (and I will correct you).
At the time of purchase, it only had 52,000 miles on it, but what really sold me was the leather interior, which has turned me into something of a car interior snob.
The dealership wanted over $9,000. I spent several hours negotiating until I finally got them down to $6,300. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Little did I know how much I would come to hate the car I excitedly drove off the lot.
My car's name (yes, I've named it) is Delores. Delores the Taurus. Isn't that cute? Well I thought so. As you can see, it's a very Chrislove kind of car.
Delores may be almost ten years old, but in the close to six years I've owned it, I've only put an additional 57,000 miles on. In theory, Delores is much more middle-aged than old. Despite this, life in snowy northwestern Pennsylvania has taken its toll. Follow me below the doodle-thingy to see what happens to cars in the Great White North.
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Delores has always given me problems. Not anything major at first, but just enough to keep me perpetually annoyed. It's always driven somewhat rough. It's always - for whatever reason - shook when drive at speeds in excess of 75 or so miles per hour (not that I would ever go that fast...even though the legislature here in Texas did increase highway speed limits to 75). And from the very beginning, little things constantly went wrong, from malfunctioning windows to inexplicable warning lights on the dash.
Then, when I started my senior year of college, I decided to save some money (since I lived downtown and didn't need a car anyway) and let Delores sit in the parking lot of my mom's apartment building. A year went by of very irregular driving time.
When it came time to get the car ready for my trip to Texas, I was anticipating some problems. I had to buy a new battery right off the bat. When I took the car to the mechanic to get it inspected, I was expecting some routine repairs that wouldn't amount to very much. And I got what I expected - routine things like rotor replacement and a few other things. Then the mechanic dropped the bomb on me: "Oh, and you also need to replace your K-frame." "What's a K-frame?" I asked. He answered very nonchalantly: "Basically the bottom of your car."
If you're wondering how expensive that is, it's about as expensive as it sounds, if not a bit more. It drained pretty much all the money out of my savings account. But I got Delores fixed, and that's what mattered.
Then, immediately after I got the car out of the garage, my belt started squealing. Being the idiot that I am, I thought I'd fix it by spraying WD-40 on it. That's how you fix squeaking things, right? (Don't lecture me in the comments - I got the lecture from the mechanic) So I had to get a new belt.
Then, on the trip to Texas, the belt started squealing again. It turned out that the problem was something else entirely (I want to say "belt tuner," but Google isn't pulling anything up) - something even more expensive than the belt. So I pulled out my debit card and paid more money I didn't have to spend.
Upon arriving in Texas, Delores started making a thudding noise. I took it to Firestone, and the struts were shot. Another $400.
After that, Delores was fine for a while. Months, even. Then, I decided to drive to Dallas during the Storm of the Century. I wasn't paying attention to what was in front of me, so little did I know that I was about to plow through a puddle as big as the Gulf of Mexico at 70 MPH. It was like hitting a brick wall. I kept thinking, Oh shit oh shit, I'm gonna stall! Luckily, that didn't happen. Everything appeared to be all right when I emerged on the other side. So I kept driving.
I did notice a rattling underneath the car, though. A rattling that got worse and worse the more I drove. And, when I parked the car, I happened to notice that part of the plastic guard that runs underneath my doors got ripped off. Great, I though. My car sounded like a bag of cans being shook, and half of the plastic was ripped from the bottom of the car. Just wonderful.
When I arrived back in Houston, I found my plastic guard lying next to the interstate, which I was able to retrieve. Which excited me, and I thought maybe my car problems weren't as bad as I thought they were. Then I rolled down my window. And, I shit you not, the freaking window fell off track. How that happens, I will never understand, but that's what happened.
So back to Firestone I went. After five minutes of looking at my car, the mechanic fixed the rattling (it was just a loose heat shield). He then fixed my window, which cost over $160 despite the parts only costing $30.
Then, when he was trying to put my plastic back on the bottom of the car, he motioned for me to walk out to the garage. When I met him under my car, he said, "This car is from the North, isn't it?" I was like, "Yes, why?" He said, "I can't put the plastic back on your car because where it's supposed to be fastened to is so deteriorated." I didn't bother telling him that it wasn't deterioration, it was actually that I ran over a curb a few months ago. Regardless of the reason why, now my car looks like this and there's nothing I can do about it.
I keep telling myself it's just a battle scar because Delores is such a warrior. It doesn't make me feel any better.
What I really need is a new car. And it's not that I can't afford one. Right now, I could probably afford to make payments on a new car. But, being a TA and a full-time grad student, I don't have the kind of financial security that allows me to make a decision like that. So, for the time being, I'm stuck driving Delores.
I'd reassure myself that nothing else could possibly go wrong with Delores. Then I remember that I haven't had to replace my transmission yet. And I remember that my car hasn't spontaneously combusted yet. So I'll keep my mouth shut.
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February 23, 2012
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