My Car

The story of my car starts 10 years ago when my mother and I were driving home from my sister's flute recital in our Subaru Outback. It was red and less than a year old. I loved it. We were on Clover Street, heading straight through the Clover/French Rd. intersection. There was a van coming towards us, but instead of going straight, it turned left. Everything went in slow motion. I heard my Mom scream, and I said, very matter-of-fact-ly "We're going to get in a car accident".

The van smashed into the front/passenger side of the car. The airbags hit me. The air was dusty and my Mom was yelling at me to get out. My door was stuck and I had to kick it open with both feet. The first thing I noticed was green liquid floating all over the street. Car pieces were all over. I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying. The car was destroyed and I knew it. 

The car was totaled, and my parents purchased a new model of the same car - this time in a color called "wintergreen". I was sad it wasn't red. 

When it was time to go to go to college, a few years later, my Dad made a deal with me. He told me if I picked a school that gave me a full scholarship I would get a car. We had fun pretending he was going to buy me a WRX, with 264 horsepower. There was no car, though, for my first year of college. For my second year of college, he bought a 10 year old Saturn for a couple thousand dollars from my cousin (who had probably used it for off-roading). 

Ah, the shitty saturn, as I called it. The driver side window did not go down. It stalled daily. One of the wheels got dented, and I ended up having to drive out to a creepy junkyard for another, unmatching one (there's a story for my next post). After a year with the shitty saturn an amazing thing happened. My Dad bought a new car - and passed the wintergreen Subaru outback on to me. He gave me a short lecture about taking good care of it and keeping it clean, as it was the family car. I sure loved driving a car that didn't stall every time I was at a red light. 

I drove the car for the rest of my time at college.  Aside from a flat tire I got last year (someone in Steve's neighborhood slashed it, and left cocaine in the tire - we know because we tried it. (That's a lie, people!)) the car ran perfectly. 

My good luck ran out on December 8th, when the check engine light went out. My Dad suggested getting in to be check would be good, and if the light started flashing, to stop driving immediately. Steve advised me to jump out of the car if it started on fire. Three days, one awesome rental car, one catalytic converter, and almost two paychecks later, my car was fixed. 

I was a bit of a snot about the whole situation, and had a bad attitude. So, I suppose it's no surprise that 18 days later my car had another problem. A week ago Monday, when I was heading off to work, my car wouldn't start. It was totally dead. On the plus side, I got to drive my father's awesome Prius for the morning. On the more negative side, there was another problem with my car.

At lunch my father and I went to Sears to purchase a new battery.  He was sure it was the battery - the car is 9 years old at this point, and batteries have a 8-10 year life, so it made sense. So we bought the battery, came home, put the battery in, and the car still didn't start.

I started sobbing.

My father called the tow truck and I hid in my room and tried to get work done from my home computer. Tried being the key word in that sentence - I was a complete and total wreck. I'd just had the catalytic converter replaced a couple weeks ago, bought a new battery, now it needed to be towed, have something else fixed. It just didn't seem appropriate to me that I would spend more money than I was making on my car. 

I prayed. I asked other people to pray. I heard the tow truck pull up. I couldn't bear to watch. I heard the tow truck leave. My father came upstairs and said "It started. The tow truck guy - he was this little jolly guy - he put the key in and it started. It must have been flooded. I didn't think that could happen to newer cars, but he said it is possible. So it's fine now". 

I drove the car that night, to Starbucks, around Henrietta angrily. I drove to work the next day, and to CVS for milk. It was starting. It wasn't starting that well, but it was starting, and getting me where I needed to go.

At 9:00pm on New Years Eve I got in my car to go out, and it was completely dead again. I stomped in the house and layed on my bed and played Tap Tap Revenge for half an hour. Then I called many people in my cell phone, in total boredom. My father and I decided we'd get it started the next day and get it somewhere to be looked at right away.

Well, we got a little bit distracted on New Years Day, and ended up watching a program about an obesity clinic in NYC for about 4 hours. Then I played DDR with Alex for a few hours.

So Friday morning I woke up and my father was in the driveway with the hood of my car up, battery out, soaking all sorts of car pieces in water and baking soda. He couldn't get it started. I got upset again. I prayed. I complained. My Dad still wanted to get it started himself, but said he'd killed the battery trying so many times, so we were going to take it to Sears to get charged. 

Into Sears we go, for the second time that week, carrying a battery. We handed it to the woman at the counter, and she took it to the back. She came out two minutes later. "It's bad" she said, and handed us a brand new battery. "It's very rare, but it happens". Back at home, for about the 5th time, my Dad hooked a battery up to my car. This time, it started up perfectly right away. 

The moral of the story is . . . well, I don't know. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe this is just a story about my car and I.