“I’m not dead. I’m getting better…”
After the latest reanimation of my old Camry following another mechanical meltdown, my feeling was “No you’re not, you’ll be stone dead in a moment.”
With The Girl now living in Turkey, i acquired her Honda. An actual CAR. With operational AIR CONDITIONING. This is new for me. Over 100,000 miles on it, but it’s paid for, reliable, and sips gas like a supermodel sips watered-down Diet Coke.
A bad valve, and an un-repairable oil leak are the known defects. Time to send it to the crusher. Knowing the flaws, there was no way in hell i could sell it. Donating it to charity, and taking the tax credit, seemed like the right thing to do.
As i looked for charitable organizations accepting junk cars, i heard a tale of a young girl in need of transport. She works multiple minimum wage jobs, and takes side projects, to help pay the bills. She was looking for a cheap car, and not fussy about amenities. Without access to wheels, she’s been hitching rides with friends, or walking, to get to her various places of employment.
“Not quite dead yet” indeed.
i decided to just give her the blasted heap, and hopefully she could put a few miles on it before it takes that final automotive shit. My mechanic had told me that as long as i kept dumping oil in it, it would likely go a bit further.
Cute Girl [dancing, upon getting a title to a car with her name on it]: Oh, my god! i can’t believe this! You have no idea how much we* appreciate this!
daisyfae: Just remember to keep checking the oil, and i’m hopeful it can keep running for you…
We did a walk around, and i showed her the dents from where The Boy hit a mailbox, and how the passenger side window never quite goes all the way up, without assistance. We popped the hood, and she checked the oil. Even asked when i last put tires on it, and how old the battery was…
As she drove away, it made me happy. Perhaps the planets had aligned and the old girl had some legs left…
Two hours later, i got a text from her.
Cute Girl: Thank you AGAIN for your most generous gift! And by the way, how long has the engine light been on?
daisyfae: Um… that’s new. Best get your uncle** to take a look at that soon…
Sending a text to The Boy the next morning:
daisyfae: Pulled the audio gear out of the Camry and it has a new home. Gave it to a cute theater gal. Guess it was reinCARnated.
The Boy [30 minutes later]: The “Twig and Berries” Act of 1802 states: “bad puns shall henceforce nay be texted before the 16th hour on any weekday….” so you may want to watch those puns because as a god-fearing ‘merican I would be compelled to report you to the proper authorities if you should slip up again.
daisyfae: But your old car will now be transporting a pod of lesbitarians! That’s good CARma! Forgive an old broad her puns…
The Boy: Are they hot? They travel in pods now? I’ll allow the puns, it’s just that waking up to a text with a bad pun is like waking up to a Carrot Top alarm clock, and no one wants that.
Given the glowing engine light, i had a bad feeling that the happy dance hadn’t lasted long, and that she was stuck right back where she started. But i got a text from her today, answering my unasked question:
Cute Girl: “Carma” is running beautifully, and has allowed us to see family we haven’t seen in weeks! Hoping engine light is just an oxygen sensor, but having uncle check later this week. Have a beautiful day!
They named it “Carma”. How fucking adorable is that?
Long may you run, long may you run
Although these changes have come
With your chrome heart shining in the sun
Long may you run…
* “we” refers to her and her partner. The gals work hard, have a young child with them, and her partner has a recently wrecked car that barely runs. They need wheels. They probably could use a lottery win, too…
** There’s an uncle with an auto shop… Thankfully.