Although declared ‘clinically dead’ Christmas week, 2008, for not having an alternator (See: “Alternator Alternative” in a previous post), my ‘95 Eagle Talon lived about 6-more weeks and gently passed away yesterday on Monroe Ave. She was 14.
Against incredible odds – no alternator, driver side door couldn’t be closed, a lifetime of less than 10 oil changes and three tune-ups, a hanging muffler, few backup lights, no horn, no heat, stolen once, no radio, non-working front seat belts (the back ones were fine), seven reported accidents, one dangling front turn light socket, one windshield wiper, 2 good tires, loudly-clicking tie rods, and (last week) me adding water – not anti-freeze – (who knew?) to the radiator, the Talon happily started every day with only a cheap battery I bought at Walmarts. The end came with a little puff of smoke and all her radiator fluid flowing onto the street.
Ironically, just last week she passed a NYS Inspection after I asked a friend to bring her to his ‘inspector’. The ‘inspector’ passed my Talon in less than 2-minutes. I’m told he only asked one question, “Did you bring the Scotch tape?”. And sadly, I was about to store her for the season to protect her from rusting salt – and bring out my winter “junker”. I shouldn’t have waited.
Rarely did a day pass when other drivers did not notice her well-designed attributes. Enthusiastically pointing, they’d shout through closed windows, “Your lights!”, “Your muffler!” “Your DOOR!” I’d knowingly nod my head and smile – sometimes I’d even mouth “Thank you” – and wave. I’m a modest man – acknowledging her superior features was always a little embarrassing.
Over the years, some have accused me of auto abuse – kind of like the ‘Chris Brown of Cars.’ But any minor mistreatment of my beauty was benign – sins of omission and emission – never of transmission.
I was quite sad and a little insulted yesterday just before the Salvation man towed my Talon away. He wanted to give me $50.00 in her memory. I wouldn’t take it though – somehow it would have cheapened our relationship. Instead I asked him to give the money to his favorite charity in “her” name.
He assured me he certainly would.
The Vehicles we love. You forgot “Paid for!!” I think. I bought my first regular car for something like $300 about 15 years ago. (Everything else was a truck of some sort. I had a 90 mile drive home and hit the pedal-90-95-100-105-110-VAARRROOOM!! AND into the big city of jacksonville and through it and the blue lights came on behind me.
It had come with a bumper sticker that said “Bikers do it better on two wheels.”
Cops pulled in front of me, to my right, to my left, and to my rear. They boxed me in with at least 6 cop cars and I put my hand out for the tickets.
“Licencse and registration please?”
Oh. Formalities. I looked for the registration and found it and explained I had just bought the car.
He threw the papers back at me and yelled at the other cops-”HE Just bought it!!” With unhappy looks they all turned around to drive away.
“HEYYY!,” I yelled. “Don’t I get a ticket or something?”
1st cop-”I’ll be glad to write you a ticket if your all that disappointed!” (None of them had seen me sppeding-they were looking for the biker that did it on two wheel!!!”)
“Never mind, I’m happy,” I said and drove off.
15 miles from home I pulled into a gas station and threw a rod with smoke pouring out of the engine. No repairs possible. A CRAZY lady grabbed my arm and said, “OOHH< What a nice looking car!"
"It's blown up!," I declared.
"But the windshield is nice."
So I smashed the windshield and told her, "No it's not."
"OOOH!!<" she said, "But the door windows are all in good shape.
(I confess after the rod blew I chugged a pint of whiskey and this all just seemed ridiculously funny to me- as I busted the side windows and lay back in the car to sleep it off.
Then a new cop showed up called by the station owner. He explained he was going to have t arrest me for drunk driving.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because the keys are in the ignition and your drunk and behind the wheel!"
"That's true," I replied. But how could I be driving a car that doesn't run?"
It doesn't run?"
"No! Look at the smoke comeing from the burned up engine."
The gas station owner- a real good respectable citizen pointed out, "BUT LOOK! Look what he did to his car!!"
The cop said, "It's his car. He can do anything he wants to to it!" and drove off.
I love this county.
Two wonderful stories. Growing up in an area that has no public transportation, I fully appreciate loving stories about one’s automobile. I remember more about the cars I’ve had than about many people I befriended over the years. I’ve love all my vehicles. My favorite 1995 Grand Cherokee, I just know is resting peacefully in old Jeep heavan. There was going to be a place for her in my dad’s jeep graveyard, but then the government offered me $4k to send her to the crusher this past summer. I still have my keys to it as well as the gold “P” from the J-E-E-P letters that fell off the hood. I keep the “P” in my new car so part of my old white jeep is always with me when I travel. I really missed her this past weekend when we got hit with so much snow. It didn’t matter that exhaust fumes served as my air freshener or that it blew enough smoke out of the muffler to suffocate the neighborhood. So what if all I could get was Rush Limbaugh’s nauseating diatribe on the only am station the radio would tune into. I had to hold the rear hatch open with my head while loading groceries in the back, but it helped build my neck muscles. It was on its third transmission and it still had problems shifting and would stall while idling at red lights. She got me where I needed to go even though she was tired and worn out. I hope she knew how much I loved her……………..
Paolo, I remember when that car was new; it really was beautiful. But seven “reported” accidents? How many overall? Maybe it’s a good thing your taking the bus now.
That part flew right over my head. BUT-there is some icy stuff to drive on out there at times.