On Tuesday, I went to visit a friend who lives 30 miles away. I drove down peacefully, listening to tunes, breathing in the SMOG-FILLED air, and smiling at the traffic headed in the opposite direction. Shortly after I arrived, we decided to have lunch a short drive away. As soon as I turned the key, something felt wrong. I pulled off and she began to rattle (the car, not my friend). The steering wheel was locking up. I didn't panic (does weeping count), but damn, can't a brother catch a break?
I decided not to worry about it until I got home, although it was quite embarrassing. I dropped my friend off after lunch and by now the car sounded a little better, but the wheel was still as tight as the fades the white boys rock in Baltimore. I figured I needed some power steering fluid... Yeah, that was it... "I'll just top it off when I get home" I said to myself.
I hit the road. I'm not going to lie, I was nervous. Not first day of school nervous... More like RUSSIAN ROULETTE nervous. My terrible record with cars over the years wasn't setting my mind at ease. Most people I know can count how many cars they've had on one hand. Not me. I need about fifty hands and a few feet. I've had more cars than Tiger Woods has had HOLE in ONES with waitresses from TGI FRIDAYS. Let's take a quick look at my vehicle history....
1998... My first car. I was working at a Granite company installing counter tops and tiling floors. The company had a 1997 RED DODGE NEON. It was the errand car and somehow it became mine. One day I asked to borrow it for the weekend and next thing I know it was with me all the time. My uncle and his partner (business, not life) owned the joint and they were the ones who let me me borrow/have it. I drove it for over a year. At the end of our relationship, I brought the car to a party in North Jersey and I scraped the shit out of NEON DEON (my pet name for her) on the side of my buddy Will's house and that was it. My mom said enough... "Give her back!" So I did.
1999... My parents decide to help me buy a car. I put my funds together and started to look around. I found a 1996 FOR BRONCO. This car was money. She was shiny and white. Pefect condition. Leather interior. Nice stereo system. She drove like a charm. No longer than two months later, the alarm started going off and wouldn't stop. Then, the car wouldn't start. Electrical failure. Apparently, the car had been in a flood and was salvaged. Those mother fuckers at the dealership were lying ass dogs. So we brought OJ's old whip back, told them first to go fist themselves, then to give us our money back.
1999... I'm not even sure if we owned this one. I remember driving her around for a week.. or so. It was a 1984 Blue VOLVO. She ran on diesel fuel and sounded like a fucking 18 wheeler, but she was nice. Not sure where she ended up. My dad probably sold her for parts.
1999... The 2000 HYUNDAI ELANTRA. She was never really mine, I drove her for many months. She was a little girl, but she ran well. She was black, with lackluster interior. It was like driving a micro-machine compared to the Bronco, but I didn't care; I'm a little man. I had her on and off for the next two years, whenever my dad didn't need her.
2000... My Mom decided it was finally time for me to have a new car. She wanted to have a JEEP in the family, for trips and such. So we leased a 2000 JEEP CHEROKEE SPORT. It was pine green. I loved it. Truth is, I felt cool as hell in my own new SUV. We had this one for a couple of years, but in the long run she turned out to be too expensive... So we gave her back.
2001... I was driving the exact same car that I'm driving today, the 1994 INFINITI G20t. There's a great story behind her as she was the first new car my mother ever had, but I'll tell that one another time. I'm pretty sure I only had her for a few months and it's unclear as to why I had to give her back to my mom. This is what I remember... I was hooking up with a certain girl in college. She and I had some disagreements, and the next morning I walked out to my car only to find her KEYED. It looked like the culprit was writing something along the lines of D-I- and half of a C. You do the math. Somebody must have seen this criminal because they didn't finish their pleasant inscription.. Needless to say, Mom wanted her car back.
2001... When my Mom bought the other HYUNDAI, she bought a more luxurious (as luxurious as Hyundai could get) model for herself. It was a 2000 HYUNDAI SONATA. She was also as black as the ace of spades and not a bad looking car. I didn't have her for long, but I appreciated her CD player and leather seats. She had some brake problems and when I sent her back to get fixed, she never returned and somehow she became my brother's.
2002... My father found a good deal from a guy in the neighborhood on a 1987 MERCURY GRAND MARQUIS. This car was AWESOME. She was white, plush interior and white wall tires. Pimp. This car looked like something Frank Sinatra would drive. Well Frank didn't own it before, but a Priest did. The car was obviously blessed. I had her for about 8 smooth months when she started to have some problems. My dad told me to add some fluids here and there before I made the drive home for the Holiday. So I added the fluids and hit the road knowing I definitely put the fluids in the wrong places. About an hour into the trip, my HOLY MOBILE blew up in my face while I was going 80mph on the Highway. It was five degrees outside, I was in the redneck part of Maryland and my car was on FIRE just off Route 95. Furious. I waited on the side of the road 4 hours until my my brother came to pick me up. By the time he got there my face was as stiff as Heidi Montag's. (I loathe her and her bottom-feeding husband by the way.)
2002... Another deal from a friend of my old man. He found me a 1986 OLDSMOBILE. She was blue and drove like a cherry at first. One morning during my senior year, I was on my way back to Jersey to coach a football game and the transmission blew. Luckily I wasn't on the highway yet, but I was still 5 miles away from my house. I had to stick my head outside of the window like ACE VENTURA and drive that bitch home BACKWARDS. People were freaking out as I cruised by... in reverse. That was the end of her.
2003-Jan 2005... This time I had an ugly, gray and rusty 1989 PONTIAC BONNEVILLE. This baby lasted me for about 2 years. I had her until about 4 days before I moved WEST. Despite her decrepit exterior, she drove great. I never had any problems with her until one day my dad called and said, "My friend's daughter is driving up from North Carolina to sell her 1999 Volvo and I thought it would be good for you to drive to California." I was pumped. Dad was really looking out. About a week before I left, I was supposed to go see the car at this guy's house, but there was a problem. The night before, his son had jumped out of a moving car and died immediately... Drugs were involved. So the sister wound up flying north to be with the family. Selling the car wasn't first on their docket. I understood. His son was 28 years old.
The next day my friend (who I moved out here with) came to Jersey and we started planning our trip. We figured, fuck it, we'll take the BONNEVILLE. Once our plans were straight, we drove to the movies to see "THE AVIATOR". On the way back... THE CAR DIED. It was like the car knew I was settling for her. Stubborn bitch. I guess it wasn't meant to be. That night we bought plane tickets and wound up flying out to Cali three days later with two bags each.
2005-2006... THE 1993 MAZDA PROTEGE. She was ugly as sin. A weird shade of green, almost turquoise. Now this one was a STICK SHIFT. I am not a believer in Stick. I know "real men" say you're not driving unless it's manual, but you know what I say to that... Fuck you. Driving stick is silly. Why would you shift gears if you don't have to? This isn't the INDY 500, it's the fucking 405. Gimme a break and stop overcompensating for your shortcomings.
I learned to drive this piece of shit on the 101 from Santa Barbara to LA during RUSH HOUR. This was no easy task. By the time I parked her at the house where I was staying, I had sweated through two shirts like CHUNK from "Goonies" and had at least 4 anxiety attacks due to making traffic worse (cause I hate people that do that). It was the worst. I think I drove her 15 times total. Eventually I drove the car back up to SB and gave her to my roommates. They shared it and drove me around once I moved up to SB. She blew up sometime in 2006 while I wasn't around, but I'm sure my magic touch had something to do with it.
2006-2009... THE 1976 FORD MUSTANG II. She was totaled by a moron on the street. Not my fault. I'm still fucking pissed. That's all I have to say about that.
2010... Back to the 1994 INFINITI G20t. So I get off the freeway and the wheel is really sticking now. The rattling gets louder. I'm at a light one block from my house, when the car starts smoking like Jackie Gleason. Then a loud RUMBLE. More smoke. I think George Burns was in there too. I parked her in the street, got out and plopped down on the grass like a dying dog. Then I started laughing. What the hell else can you do?
Yesterday I took her to a mechanic around the way and of course... A bunch of money needed to be dumped into it. What choice did I have? She had to be fixed.
I need a NEW CAR... Like an ACTUAL brand new car. I'm going to start saving. I can't afford to keep fixing these old babes. I just can't take this shit anymore. I'm an adult. I'm employed. I have insurance. I have credit cards. Why do I keep messing around with old cars? Probably avoiding payments... Definitely. I've had 12 cars in 12 years of driving. That's sick. I need to be put away. Someone take me out to the pasture and shoot me. I hate killing things... especially cars. I guess it's a good thing it's not against the law to hurt your own vehicle, because I would be in THE SLAMMER... for LIFE.
Thanks for the help, Dad. Love you. Sorry for driving so many of your loved ones into the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment