As
in the automobile I was relying upon to get myself from place to place conked
out, and may well be beyond repair.
 |
| My current incarnation of an auto in the hours before it likely gets hauled for scrap. Photograph by Gregory Tejeda |
UNLESS
I’D BECOME foolish enough to throw several thousand dollars that I don’t have
into rebuilding a 15-year-old auto that already has the appearance of a pile of
junk. For the time being, I’m stranded!
For
the record, I had wound up with a 2000 Pontiac Grand Am that once belonged to
my brother – for whom we had a memorial service on Sunday to mark his passing.
Perhaps
the vehicle has a mind of its own and now that its primary driver is gone, so
is the essence of the car.
Literally,
the car’s last trip was to enable me to attend my brother’s tribute on Sunday,
then visit my father where I spent the night.
WHEN
ON MONDAY I tried to start the car up for a day’s worth of assorted activities,
there was nothing. The thing was completely dead. As in it would not start.
My
initial reaction was to think that the car was merely suffering from the type
of glitches that get caused by wintry weather. Even though this weekend’s
winter weather was weak.
But
an attempt at a jump start didn’t do a thing to start the car up. My father
offering me a trip to a Pep Boys shop nearby to buy a new battery also was
unsuccessful.
Putting
in the new battery produced even less reaction from the motor than did my
initial jump start attempt. Although the people at Pep Boys did confirm that
the old battery truly was dead and in need of replacement.
WHICH
MADE THE Pep Boys people more than eager to take $153 from my wallet as they
sold me a new battery.
But
while the old dead battery generated a few clicks (but no action) of sound, the
new live battery wound up being totally useless.
Fortunately
for me, Pep Boys took back the new battery and refunded my money – although not
before putting me through a series of questions meant to imply it is my own
incompetence and nothing wrong with the battery that was causing me to have a
dead car.
As
I write this, I’m facing the prospect that this old car (which I already knew
was leaking engine coolant and couldn’t retain steering fluid – even though two
different mechanics claim there’s no leak) is gone.
AND
THAT I’M finally going to have to give in to something I have tried to avoid
for years – both when I was driving a used Saturn SL2 that now rests in parts
in a junk yard somewhere and in occasionally using my brother’s old auto.
A
car payment!
That
monthly memo that would eat even further into the scrawny living I earn these
days as a freelance writer – which is a fact that annoys the car dealers who’d
love to sell me a new vehicle because it means I don’t have the absolutely
reliable income they’d love to see from my credit.
Telling
someone that my employer is sometimes late in processing the invoice that
requests my payment, and that my income fluctuates from week to week depending
on how much copy I can generate for someone else, doesn’t build up much good
will.
OF
COURSE, THE ultimate insult to injury may be the fact that when the car didn’t
start, I had to push it out into the street so as to allow another vehicle
parked in the same driveway to get out. I can’t screw up everybody’s day just
because my own on Monday was chaotic.
Yet
it seems that I pointed the vehicle in the wrong direction on a residential
street. Meaning that when I came back from the Pep Boys store with the new
battery, a friendly neighborhood police officer had issued me a citation – and a
$35 fine, if I pay it within 10 days without a fight!
This
definitely won’t be a moment I mention come Thursday when I’m asked what I’m
thankful for.
-30-
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