I got a new car. Well, a new old car. My previous one, a 21-year-old Toyota Camry that I’ve written quite a lot about in my previous blog, was still working, but since I was offered to buy my wife’s grandma’s car (Ford Taurus ’99) that she is no longer using for a good price, I grabbed the opportunity and upgraded.
While the new car isn’t exactly new or, how do I put this gently… sexy (according to SNL it’s the car that many thirtysomethings drive to show the world they’ve given up on their dreams), it does possess some features one would consider useful or maybe even necessary for a functioning vehicle, such as a heater and A/C, working radio and both tail lights intact.
It is with a heavy heart I bid adieu to my Camry, that has served me well over the last 5 years. It really excelled at one thing and one thing only: getting me from point A to point B. That’s pretty much all it did. Everything else it failed at. Sometimes, at point B, you would find yourself either soaked in sweat if the weather was hot, or frozen stiff on the occasional days where temperatures dipped below freezing. My heating system was a pair of gloves and a hat. My defroster was the sun. On the days when we had frost, I would back the car out of the driveway and into the street so it would catch the first rays of sunlight as they peaked over the rooftops of the neighboring houses. Minutes later, the windshield would be clear enough for me to drive to work without hitting too many pedestrians along the way.
Over the years, as the car shed features like a leper, it still managed to hang in there and propel itself forward, even when the sounds made when turning abruptly sometimes led the untrained ear to believe the wheels where coming off or the suspension was about to collapse.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Well, it could be one of two things. Either, 1) This guy is a complete idiot for driving this death trap. or 2) …. actually, nevermind. There’s just one option, and I think you’re right. I’m not quite sure why I held on to it other then being a cheap bastard. I also wanted to find out what part of the car would fall off next. A twisted game of suspense. The excitement of putting the key in the ignition every morning to see if it would start… or explode? Now that excitement is gone and I’m back to, what I hoping is, an uneventful future of Ford Taurus ownership.