Goodbye, Car

Just said goodbye to my car. A tow truck will be picking it up today and delivering it to a car auction located in a scary part of the city, right around the corner from Thunderdome, I do believe. I donated it to Habitat for Humanity, hopefully it will bring in a few hundred bucks for the cause. Despite the problems the car has caused me over the years—and there were many—I am still sad to see it go and will probably miss the stupid thing. Damn you, misplaced separation anxiety.

The car was there for me in both good times and bad (it had no choice, I had the keys), sometimes reliable and sometimes on fire (more on that later.) We bought the car back in 2000, my wife Kelly and I were making a decent living and finally had enough money to buy a new car, my first non-previously-owned vehicle ever.

To be clear, I am in no way a car guy, never have been, never will be.  In high school I had a used Buick Skylark. In my early 20’s, I sped around town in a cheesy old Chrysler Laser, immediately dubbed “The Loser” by my pal Linda.

I enjoy not knowing anything about cars, I use that brain space for memorizing Hüsker Dü lyrics and three- and four-letter Scrabble words. I don’t get under the hood or change spark plugs or do whatever you do to the oil, but I did install a new headlight recently. It fell out three days later.

Back in the year 2000, I told the guys at work I was getting a new VW Passat, they reassured me it was a cool car and I was making the right move. But when I proudly pulled up to the office and they saw I bought a wagon instead of a sedan, an avalanche of laughs tumbled towards me and an entire bucket of ball busting was unleashed upon my new car-owning self.

I did not have kids at this point and no one could understand why I got a soccer mom car. BTW, that’s what they call me for a while, “Soccer Mom” driving the “Soccer Mom Mobile.” Good stuff, fellas.

As I mentioned earlier, the 2000 Black VW v-6 Wagon served me well for the most part and I have  a slew of happy memories where the car did me justice.

One of the most satisfying memories was a trip to IKEA. We had a small basement in our first house and even smaller stairs so fitting any sort of normal-sized furniture was out of the question. We located the smallest sofa available, the Klippan. We got two (still have them, cozy!). As we were getting ready to set up delivery, I said, “Hey, I bet one of these little sofa guys can fit in my new super wagon!” And wouldn’t you know it, it did with maybe an inch to spare. I took two trips and and was extremely proud of my vehicle and it’s impressive capacity to hold large objects. I almost felt like a big, brawny, beard-having man putting a load of cinder blocks in the bed of his Ford F-350 Super Duty.

Some more notable good times:

• Safely transporting my pregnant wife home from a NYC hospital after a very scary and almost-very-early-delivery episode (slowest drive ever!)
• Driving my first daughter home from the hospital (safest drive ever!)
• Tailgating at concerts in Camden
• Tailgating at Phillies games with Kelly
• Many soul- and house-cleansing trips to the township dump with a carful of clutter
• Countless trips to Belmar beach with the family

The good times were balanced out with a healthy dose of frustration and some seriously fat bills because the car was basically a lemon and the stupid dealership from where I bought it was notorious for overcharging for service (don’t buy a VW in Ardmore, PA!). I sunk a lot of money into it.

Let’s see, bought it for $25,000 and if I figure in all the repairs and servicing… let me do some quick math… alright, looks like I spent a total of… $2,453,734.87.

A notable bad time:

My car caught on fire in a CompUSA parking lot in 2005. I came out of the store and there was a sticky note of my car that read “I think your car is smoking.” Indeed it was. Moments later a fire ignited under the hood and many, many firetrucks visited the parking lot to see the clueless dope with flaming VW. The Great VW CompUSA Fire of ’05 was caused by a faulty electrical system that VW knew of but forgot to warm me about. Lovely. No sweat though, my wife and newborn were happy to drive a half-hour at 9:00 pm on a cold night to pick my smoky-scented ass.

The car also had an alarm system that was maddening, sometimes working, sometimes not, locking me out completely or blaring away while I punched the hood repeatedly. Two weeks ago, in a fit of rage, I actually located the alarm horn (thanks, Google!) and took a pair of pliers and ripped it out. It felt very good.

The car also had a “Check Engine” light that basically went on at regular intervals to let me know when the dealership wanted a large chunk of my money. Very clever. I used get scared and bring it in for service every time, but in its later years I just ignored it. Usually there was nothing wrong.

A notable vomity time:

After a bad day of running last year, I had a memorable trip home in the car with my youngest daughter:

For the past year, I deemed the Soccer Mom Mobile too unsafe for the transportation of our family so I only used the car to go to work and park in the Philly’s oldest parking garage where all vehicles enjoy a ding or eight on a monthly basis. I just needed the clunker to last until spring. For the past few months, the car has been a frightful, four-wheeled mess: two loose engine mounts, the electrical system is out of whack due to a water leak (the dash warning reads “EJECT! EJECT!).

I knew it was only a matter of time before it broke down so I kept an extra pair of running sneaks and shorts in the back so I’d be ready to place the “FREE CAR” sign on the windshield and run my butt home.

Luckily, that did not happen. It made it to the end.

I took off the license plates, cleaned out some bagel crumbs, and collected my valuables (including the two Son Volt and Jawbreaker CDs that have been in the rear-mounted six-disc CD changer for the past three years). I left the title and the keys in the dash. Ready to go to a new home. Hopefully the home of a good mechanic.

All in all, I’ll miss it. I remember the day Kel and I bought it. After the purchase, we went to a movie in Manayunk, it was lovely summer’s night. I felt so happy walking out of the theater and seeing our brand new car glimmering under the parking lot lights and envisioning the little family that would someday be shuttled about in it. We never had a new car growing up, so the feeling was new and it was kind of magical.

Sure the Soccer Mom Mobile was just a large movable piece of  metal and plastic and whatever else cars are made of, but it was part of my life for a good 11 years and that certainly means something.

Thanks, car.