All Hail Black Beauty

Little Blue has gone.  In her stead there is a new wagon in the driveway.

Her name is Black Beauty and I feel like a badass behind the wheel.  This is perhaps unwarranted, as I am 52 and known for my affection for polka dots and sensible shoes.  And I am driving a station wagon....but here we are.  We’re looking forward to many adventures together, this wagon and me. That’s happy!

Ode to the Little Blue Wagon

When my blue station wagon first came to live in the driveway at Sassafras House , it was 2011 and I was the mother of an 11 year old boy.  Within a few weeks of buying Little Blue, I met T.  My sister, aware that the last time I had owned a station wagon was 1999, when I got pregnant with JT, announced “you will be driving wagons forever now.”  

Truth is a funny thing.

I do love a station wagon and over the years, my blue wagon has provided faithful service.  It’s brought home many a grocery bag, been camping, and carried sports equipment and chairs for fans to sports events all over the state.  Tucked in the side bin on the driver’s seats were loads of maps from those journeys.  These days, I use my phone and Google, but the wrinkled maps remain.

I insisted on a standard transmission when I got Little Blue and it must be said that I love driving a stick shift.  These gears (and the clutch!) have carried me more than 100,000 miles.  That’s no small achievement in New Jersey, the stop-and-go traffic capital of the mid-Atlantic.

On the first weekend of February, Little Blue’s engine seemed unhappy.  A trip to the mechanic confirmed that there was trouble.  Big trouble.  $2700 would put it back on the road, but I still needed new tires and the clutch has 100,000 miles on it…. Loathe to put  that much money toward repairs into the 9 year old wagon, we parted today.  

Little Blue has been sent to the great auto beyond but the memories of the first kiss I shared with T,  daily drives to school with JT, downshifting around a curve, and driving all over the northeast in her company will happily remain.   Thank you, little blue wagon.  

Back in Black

While my VW Jetta wagon, Little Blue, is in the shop getting repaired (a $5000 and 3 week job), I get a loaner rental car.  My insurance stipulates that the rental be a vehicle similar to my own and someone at the rental company has a sense of humor because this is my loaner car.

It's a Nissan Pathfinder and it is large and in charge.  It has earned various names in its time with us: the Behemouth, the Canyonero, and Black Beauty.  When we roll out for long journeys, JT queues up "Back in Black" to accompany our movement.  It seems fitting.

The car has truckloads of room and, despite its size, is surprisingly agile to drive.  The gas mileage isn't great (about 20 mpg on the highway) but we ride in comfort everywhere we go, looking down upon the commoners.  After years of disparaging automatic transmissions, it's worth noting that I find this one impressive and it was quite handy in the three hour traffic jam that accompanied our departure from the Cape on Saturday (seriously, three hours…..Saturday departures will happen no more).

And did I mention that the car is spacious?  It has two rows of seats and both can be collapsed to create a vast trunk.  At camp, JT loaded up his air mattress to demonstrate the comfort available in the back of this beast.

My only complaint about the car is that it feels patently ridiculous for just two people to be exiting from the vehicle.  If I were to acquire one of these for my permanent use, I'd need several more children, enough to form my own baseball  infield team.  I'd certainly have the space.

Ouch

Last week, I got sideswiped.  JT was in the car with me and props to my little steel tank of a VW, because we heard the bump but didn't feel jostled.  So we are okay, though the car is feeling a little bruised along the passenger doors and bumper.

No one was hurt and the car is still drivable  The accident wasn't my fault and I have insurance, so in the end it will all be fine.  But it is an inconvenience and I still feel bad for Little Blue.

I head to the auto shop today for an estimate and to get on their repair calendar.   Updates as warranted.

Birthday Weekend

T's birthday was Friday and we celebrated in style.  Style in this case meant pretty presents, steak for supper and a trip to the Harbor Freight tool store that she's been longing to visit.

On Saturday, we went to pick up her new car.  It's awfully shiny and, fittingly, the folks at Subaru were terrific.  Then we loaded in the boy and made an effort to demonstrate to him that we aren't fussy old folks.  We drove fast and rolled up to his baseball practice playing AC/DC at volumes unsuitable for our collective long-term hearing.

For dessert today, I made my first attempt at a lemon meringue pie, T's favorite.  No pictures of the pie because I'm going to need some practice before I succeed at that venture.

One of the the nicest things about having T in our world is being able to give her treats and celebrate holidays and birthdays with her.  She makes us laugh and loves us beyond measure even when we're difficult.   And we love her back.   That's happy, very, very happy.

The Mama Car

I have a theory that cars are just the grown-up equivalent of lockers.  As of Wednesday evening, I've got a shiny new locker.  Rest assured we've already put it to work.

Naturally, I've started the process of decorating.

The new ride is still very much a mom car (because, ahem, duh) but it's quite zippy.  It will permit JT to ride up front, where he anticipates a whole new world view (and, I expect, entertains fantasies about joining the music management team).  I'm looking forward to setting aside my reliability anxieties and dreaming about some awesome road trips.

Bittersweet

Yesterday, we said good bye to our Saturn, the car I had taken to calling "the old jalopy."  At the age of seven (what is that in car years?), the car experienced a difficult spring.  As a consequence, so did we.   With nearly 100,000 miles on her meter, the time had come for us to part ways with the Saturn.

It's taken us through countless road trips, covering 15 states, with a little boy who needed a booster seat when I bought the car but who is now nearly taller than me (and no longer little).  We've gone to school in the fall, winter, and spring with bags full of books, homework, and projects galore.  It's been to the beach and camping and to its share of Halloween Trunk-or-Treats.  It's been to baseball games, soccer games, and running contests.  It's carried bikes, garden equipment, groceries, kittens who became cats, and all sorts of luggage.  We've sung hundreds of songs in this car.  It's made us laugh (what was the deal with that damned alarm?) and it's been there when life was very, very difficult.  Five years ago, there were many times when I cried as I drove this car and memories of better days flooded over me.  I hope that I've laughed just as often.  Before we said good bye, JT pretended to take it for a spin.

He's from New Jersey, so of course he rolled down the window and shouted at his imagined fellow drivers.

I'll post an update on the new ride (a VW Jetta SportWagen) tomorrow, with pictures.

Oh, Wednesday

A few weeks ago, I sat down to write-up my Wednesday woes.  The Universe apparently heard (but did not listen?) and yesterday morning offered up Wednesday Can Suck It, part II.

My car, which has been misbehaving in an undiagnosable way (as in mechanic was stumped) for several weeks now, had settled into a pattern of reliably hiccuping but never actually stopping.  No check engine lights were on.  No dreadful sounds were heard.  I figured I had time to: 1) watch for other troubling signs and get thee to a mechanic and/or 2) explore my replacement car options.

JT and I took to bringing along sneakers and a book for all of our travels.  Things were fine.  Or fine'ish.

Until yesterday morning, circa 7:10 am, as we were leaving the house early to score a bagel for breakfast.  The car refused to start, then started but wouldn't really go anywhere.  And suddenly two dashboard lights were flashing, as if to suggest something along the lines of "girl, you are so fucked now."  We grabbed a ride to school with a friend who lives in town.  Then we spent some time yesterday getting the car to the mechanic for what turned out to be the ultimate diagnosis of $600 spark plug coil/ignition blowout.

Ouch.

The repair is proceeding.  We weren't left stranded by the side of the road and instead spent an extra few minutes on the front porch on a beautiful May morning.   And once again, let me note that it's very nice to have friends who are so willing to help.  In fact, our blessings are too numerous to calculate and we know that well.  Add in a sense of humor and we're doing just fine.  

Very fine indeed.

Walter

Though he was exceptionally good natured and informative, I would rather have not spent Mother's Day afternoon with Walter.

Walter is a tow truck driver and we were spending time together because my car made a horrible clunking sound ----- as I was driving 60 mph ----- and soon after that, acceleration and steering became optional. I pulled in the parking lot of a mall (yet another reason to be glad that Jersey is over run with them), called Triple A, popped into the bookstore to get a little something to read, and 40 minutes later, made friends with Walter the Tow Truck Dude. He carried my car over to the Saturn dealer.

He thinks it's the tie rod. I'm inclined to be hopeful that's the case since, well, other explanations seem considerably more costly. My friend sb came and got me so I could finish the grocery shopping I had been on my way to complete.

And then I came home and re-acquainted myself with my friend Captain Jack.


After all, I won't be driving anytime soon.

Update: Saturn called around 10:30 am to report that a bolt from a previous repair had not been tightened. It has now been tightened and my car is ready to go. No charge for the repair since, ummmmm, they screwed up.

Ahem.

To review: lefty-loosely; righty-tighty.

All's well that ends well, I think.