Motivation kicked in today. Wait, I should say fear finally took over the forefront of my thoughts and I decided to finally do something about it.
Want to know the one topic that plunges me instantly into the deepest pit of despair? Want to know what can make me say to my dad (whom I love and respect), "FINE! I'll just get NOTHING done!"? And then I apologize saying, "I know, I'm sorry. I'm not pleasant right now. Deal."
What can do this to a happy go lucky optimist?
My car.
I have almost no knowledge of cars. Sure, I know there is no such thing as blinker fluid and I'm still debating if turning the stereo up actually makes the bad sounds go away or just disguises the sounds as a sweet symphony of rock 'n roll. I'm thinking it is actually the latter.
Because I am afraid to drive more than 10 miles on a freeway and this is now cutting into my social life (or lack thereof), my mind said, "IT IS TIME." The internal voice is commands me and scoffs at my checkbook's protests.
First off, I should explain the vehicle's symptoms that drove me to find a cure for it's ailment(s). My little, compact blue Geo Prizm has a "cough". It is tired and generally feels worthless. Social Anxiety Disorder? I wish Paxil would help my little car. Probably won't, since it is in fact a car, not a human being.
By the way, I named my car the Blue Fox. That's not in honor of a certain bar in the Twin Cities but just a fun name. And the car is blue, so it fits. (A little bit of the name is homage to The X-Files and Fox Mulder, but not much.)
Since I can't add my car as a dependent on my health insurance plan, it does probably get neglected. This is my fault. Sure, it gets frequent meals (it sure loves that high-priced cocktails once a week, guzzling it down as if the gods gave it to the car directly, screaming, "I've been so hungry, so very hungry!") The Blue Fox gets oil changes just as I need new shoes or new blue jeans. When Foxy was feeling sad and blue, I bought Foxy a bright, shiny MP3 player to feel special.
I give my car pep talks. I do. I tell it on cold days, "You can do it! You want to run!" And Foxy always responds to my gentle pleas and confidence in the car. Vroom! Foxy tells me stories.
Lately, Foxy's stories have a different beat. No longer upbeat and happy, Foxy has seemed down and depressed. As Foxy gets going, he (okay, the car's a boy now, it's easier to write) starts to make a low grumbling, telling me something is wrong.
I do listen. I ask Foxy what is wrong and he keeps telling me the same thing, over and over. "I'm sick, I'm sick." When I notice the words haven't changed, my attention drifts away, actually, I divert my attention purposefully to keep the problem smaller in my mind. I turn up the radio. And yet, Foxy still tells me the sad story over and over.
I bought Foxy when I was 19. He's the first car I bought myself. I overpaid for him, but I still love him. He allowed The Sheepsheadians to play sweet songs and dance in the parking ramp at work. He was with me when I drove to Duluth, to Iowa, and to Wisconsin.
And now, he is tired and when he gets to 55 miles an hour, he starts to complain. If I have to switch highways, he mopes through the exits and lacks the energy to get up to speed.
So I decided it was time for a check-up. Some have told me, in a kind way, that it may just be a problem with the exhaust system. That was my wish. I wanted a common cold, something easily cured with $200.
I was afraid it was something with the fuel injectors. That would be costly.
Today, I went to Precision Tune, asking if they could see my sweet Foxy. "Do you have any openings today?" I asked. The evil little man didn't care for my Foxy and shunned him. He told me, "We can't do a check-up but we can charge you to replace some spark plugs." Evil little bastard. Doesn't he understand how much Foxy means to me? Can't he see how much love I have for this friend?
Obviously not.
I then took Foxy to the local gas station/service center, Amoco. The man there was nicer, he acknowledged Foxy. He said it sounded like an exhaust problem or a fuel problem. He checked the appointments and couldn't get Foxy in today, but he offered kind words and suggestions.
But still, my little Foxy wasn't feeling well. So I did what any insane car owner would do. I went to the dealership where I bought Foxy, where they raped my checkbook, and hi-fived each other when the innocent, green eyed teenager came in to buy a car 5 1/2 years ago.
I still remember the day I bought Foxy. It was Memorial Day and I went with my dad to the Chevrolet dealership because "The Bethmobile" (my friend coined the phrase as we left a Batman movie in Wisconsin - man, that car did over 100 miles an hour on a deserted Wisconsin road a long time ago) no longer liked humid days. Since Minnesota is a humid place in the summer, I traded "The Bethmobile", my first automotive love, for Foxy. When I sat behind the wheel of Foxy, he reminded me of "The Bethmobile" so much. This may be because "The Bethmobile" was a light blue, '87 Chevy Nova. Foxy is a '96 Geo Prizm, the same partnership between Chevrolet and Toyota. Foxy offered automatic windows and door locks, as well as air conditioning. Otherwise, they both had the same manual transmission, that powerful, alluring factor to any vehicle.*
I found myself back on the lot of Friendly Chevrolet in Fridley, Minnesota. It used to be called Viking Chevrolet. Viking was a more apt term for the dealership. Friendly brings thoughts of kindness and fairness to one's mind. Viking makes one think of pilaging and plundering. This is much more accurate.
I was told to ask for Dennis. I found this nice, talkative service manager. My first thought about Dennis was of Jon Voight and a light socket. It took all my strength to not say, "Dude! Your hair is spiky!" He's a nice enough man and he treated me fairly, which is a first for Friendly/Viking Chevrolet. He took Foxy into the shop and I was given a personality-free rental car. [Side note, this is the point where I really regretted writing this on blogger and not in Word and the computer lost the server and all of my latter written works for this post - ARGH!] I drove the rental off the lot, worried about Foxy, wondering if he would be curable and how much of a dent his cure would put on my checkbook. Would we drive off into the sunset together another day?
To bide time and have a ton of fun, I met Keem and Dana for dinner at Bennigan's, an Irish-themed restaurant here in the Cities. The food was good and the company was wonderful. Yet, I kept thinking of Foxy in the back of my mind. I wondered how he was doing at the dealership. Was he being poked and prodded? How did this make him feel? (Yes, that's a joke - I don't actually think the car has feelings.)
After dinner, I returned home to sit and wait patiently for the phone to ring with the prognosis. Would it be just a virus, something that could be cured with money? Or would the news scare me more than the not knowing?
Finally, the phone rang and I grabbed it, anticipating an easy solution and cringing against the hidden cause of Foxy's illness. Dennis, the nice service manager, told me about the different problems Foxy had gone in to figure out.
The door handle and lock on the passenger side would cost about $150 to fix. (Someone tried to break into the car a couple of years ago and I hadn't had this fixed yet, I asked for an estimate.)
The brake light that kept flashing on the dash, another cause for concern, was being caused by a shorted out switch and Dennis said this would be something that wasn't necessary but easily fixable if I didn't want to see the light anymore. This would cost about $100.
It was the news about the cause of Foxy's lack luster attitude that hit me the hardest. I had been wishing, praying, and hoping that it was a common cold, one cured with love and a check.
No such luck. Foxy cannot be cured by simply turning a screw that's loose. Foxy has cancer. Well, the car equivalent of cancer at least.
When I was fretting over the problems with Foxy, I never, I repeat, I never considered the engine to be the source of the problem. As it turns out, Foxy needs a new heart or the equivalent of by-pass surgery. Kemo won't even do it.
In technical terms, Foxy has a problem with his engine bearings and the crankshaft is about to fall out of the car. I was assured this was nothing to do with maintenance, but just the life of the car. I was given a timeframe of Foxy to survive without the surgery. Dennis kindly told me that Foxy may run for a few more days or a few more months. No one can be sure, but Foxy's lifeforce will end without rebuilding the entire engine.
The kicker: this would cost $4,500 to $5,500. My checkbook screamed, I mean SCREAMED at me to rethink making Foxy better.
I told Dennis I needed to think and I hung up the phone. I called my dad. Then I called my mom. Then I called Matt. I held back the tears and hitching sobs as long as possible without much success. The dam finally broke.
Matt went with me to pick up Foxy. We drove him back to my apartment and he sits outside in the lot, saddened by the news.
After much creative banking and a wonderful mother doing me a favor, I think I can scrounge up enough cash for a sizeable downpayment on a replacement for Foxy. Next Monday, I will be car shopping, hoping to not end up screwed over in a horrible loan with a lemon vehicle.
I am mournful at the prospect of sending Foxy to that happy lot in the sky. No more nights of driving, looking at the sky, and listening to happy tunes together. No longer will Foxy drive me off into the sunset. The only thing left is the fade to black.
I really cannot afford a new car, I am not looking forward to the prospect. Yes, I will love the new car, I know I will, but it will never replace Foxy in my heart. I will have Foxy stories stored in my memory.
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*Say all you want about automatic transmissions, but give this girl the power and control of a stick shift any day. There is something uplifting and powerful about being able to move the car back and forth between gears. I love it!
3 Comments:
At 7:56 AM, CarpeDM said...
Oh, God. Beth, I am so sorry.
You know, you should never doubt your power as a writer. I am crying as well. I am going to miss Foxy. And you're right, no matter how much I'm sure we'll love the new car, it will be hard to replace a true champion.
I'll be thinking of you today.
At 9:00 AM, rod said...
you've got me missing all my old cars that have gone on before.
I, too, have some magic stories like yours. Maybe I'll have to post about "the green bean".
At 12:25 PM, keem said...
I'm so sorry. I was so hoping that it was just going to be the exhaust. It will be sad to see Foxy go. A new car will be exciting though, even if it's a bit painful. :*(
