- Death
- Taxes
bleh.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
25 Years of Cars
Car 1
Early 70s dark green wood-panelled station wagon. Driven to school and back 3 days before that fateful knock on the front door: "Excuse me, do you have a green station wagon? Well, it's on fire."
Car 2
1971 Chevy Malibu Bel-Air. Peeling vinyl roof, peeling vinyl seats, holes in the floor, hole just above the 1/4 level in the gas tank. Sacrificed a back seat belt to a treasure hunt. Driven for a joyful three years, including a number of months in which it had to be hot-wired to start, before a father yelling at his kids drove right into the shiny, chrome rear bumper.
Car 3
1979 Chevy Impala. Former construction site car, giant V-8 engine, seated 8 comfortably. Radiator hose ably repaired by Geoff in a West Virginia Dairy Queen parking lot. Driven for less than two gas-guzzling years before being stolen by joyriding West Philly hoodlums.
Car 4
1979 Plymouth Champ. Manual transmission, which I learned to drive when I picked up the car in South Philly and discovered it had a manual transmission. Said transmission later repaired (over two long, parts-strewn-all-over-the-driveway weeks) by dad, who then vowed never, ever, ever to fix another car of mine again. Taught me that regular cars actually need to have oil changed, not just regularly refilled. Forlornly hauled away by Mr. Scrapyard for $50.
Car 5
1987 Ford Escort. Stylish black paint, rear window defroster. First new car, complete with 80s style 13% car loan. Spent some years moving from New Jersey to Mississippi (no air conditioning) to Atlanta, where some crazy woman decided to drive into the driver's side door. While I was driving.
Car 6
1992 Nissan Sentra. Red, manual transmission, and air conditioning. Ahh. MUCH more reasonable 10% loan, acquired through a creative interpretation of payroll deductions and the tenacity of a finance manager lured by a lucrative long-term warranty commission. Driven for two years, when sold in preparation for move to Urban Jungle.
1994-1996. The carless years. Saddest of my life.
Car 7
1982 Toyota Corolla Hatchback. Light blue and rust holes patched with layers and layers of aluminum tape. Perforated undercarriage which allowed puddles to form on the floor whenever the weather was rainy or snowy (that is, all the time). Bought for $600 from a fellow MA student, driven for two years during which time my faithful mechanic continually implored me to "please please please buy a new car," and finally sold for $600 to a fellow PhD student.
Car 8
1998 Ford Escort. Mocha Frost, with difficult-to-find combination of manual transmission and air conditioning, manual locks and window cranks (to ease escape in case of tragic bridge plunge). 0.9% financing! Delivered with three normal tires and one defective tire, causing problems which baffled service department for one full week. 150,000 miles so far, and still on the road!
Early 70s dark green wood-panelled station wagon. Driven to school and back 3 days before that fateful knock on the front door: "Excuse me, do you have a green station wagon? Well, it's on fire."
Car 2
1971 Chevy Malibu Bel-Air. Peeling vinyl roof, peeling vinyl seats, holes in the floor, hole just above the 1/4 level in the gas tank. Sacrificed a back seat belt to a treasure hunt. Driven for a joyful three years, including a number of months in which it had to be hot-wired to start, before a father yelling at his kids drove right into the shiny, chrome rear bumper.
Car 3
1979 Chevy Impala. Former construction site car, giant V-8 engine, seated 8 comfortably. Radiator hose ably repaired by Geoff in a West Virginia Dairy Queen parking lot. Driven for less than two gas-guzzling years before being stolen by joyriding West Philly hoodlums.
Car 4
1979 Plymouth Champ. Manual transmission, which I learned to drive when I picked up the car in South Philly and discovered it had a manual transmission. Said transmission later repaired (over two long, parts-strewn-all-over-the-driveway weeks) by dad, who then vowed never, ever, ever to fix another car of mine again. Taught me that regular cars actually need to have oil changed, not just regularly refilled. Forlornly hauled away by Mr. Scrapyard for $50.
Car 5
1987 Ford Escort. Stylish black paint, rear window defroster. First new car, complete with 80s style 13% car loan. Spent some years moving from New Jersey to Mississippi (no air conditioning) to Atlanta, where some crazy woman decided to drive into the driver's side door. While I was driving.
Car 6
1992 Nissan Sentra. Red, manual transmission, and air conditioning. Ahh. MUCH more reasonable 10% loan, acquired through a creative interpretation of payroll deductions and the tenacity of a finance manager lured by a lucrative long-term warranty commission. Driven for two years, when sold in preparation for move to Urban Jungle.
1994-1996. The carless years. Saddest of my life.
Car 7
1982 Toyota Corolla Hatchback. Light blue and rust holes patched with layers and layers of aluminum tape. Perforated undercarriage which allowed puddles to form on the floor whenever the weather was rainy or snowy (that is, all the time). Bought for $600 from a fellow MA student, driven for two years during which time my faithful mechanic continually implored me to "please please please buy a new car," and finally sold for $600 to a fellow PhD student.
Car 8
1998 Ford Escort. Mocha Frost, with difficult-to-find combination of manual transmission and air conditioning, manual locks and window cranks (to ease escape in case of tragic bridge plunge). 0.9% financing! Delivered with three normal tires and one defective tire, causing problems which baffled service department for one full week. 150,000 miles so far, and still on the road!
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