VW

I won't say that I drive old cars. I don't have to: everyone who knows me knows that. But some are quirky in a way which is actually kind of cool.

For awhile back in 2005 or so I had an old Volkwagen, not a beetle, but a boxy brown car which was sort of a compact type. A Golf, in fact. That's what it was. A Volkswagen Golf. A 1987 Volkswagen Golf.

It ran very well and the gas mileage was outstanding. But coolest of all was that it had stamped into the wheel well under the hood, "Made in West Germany". I was driving a car in 2005 made in a country that no longer existed.

I take pride in things like that.

 

Top Dead Center

Me Pops had an old friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who had a car which wasn't running right. He asked Dad to help install 'points' which older engines needed and are inside a distributor and, when set properly, allow the car to run correctly. Are you with me so far?

Normally, points were set 'top dead center'. Don't fret if you don't understand what that means. Just accept that it's important.

Cloyce, a stickler for detail, set them top dead center. The car engine ran rough. Pops took a turn at it. He adjusted the points where they weren't top dead center. The engine ran smooth.

Cloyce wasn't having it. The points had to be TDC according to the paperwork which came with them. Dad explained that the instructions didn't account for the natural wear and tear on car parts as cars were driven. It would be all right to set the points accordingly.

Cloyce drove the car running rough, because you had to follow directions. Dad shrugged it off. You can't make a guy make sense.

Roundabout

My new old van spent last night at the mechanic's. It needed relatively minor stuff: the left turn signal repaired (like I ever turn left <rim shot>), a blower motor, and a muffler. In short, it's like me. The older I get, the more things that go wrong too. And all at once.

It was however a bit of a chore to get a straight answer out of my mechanic on when I could pick it up. 

I happened to be driving by late yesterday afternoon, and as I had not heard anything I stopped in. "Did someone call you? Because it's not ready yet," he explained.

"No, I was just passing by and thought I'd check on things. So I take it it'll be here overnight?" It was already after 4, and they close at 5.

"Well, we had to get another turn signal assembly..."

"Ok, so, it'll be here overnight?"

"And we had to order a blower motor, but it's not here yet."

"Fine. Then it'll be here overnight?"

"It's been hard to find a muffler too. 2007 is just old enough that it's tough to find a parts house that stocks them."

"I understand. So it will be here overnight?"

"You sure drive some old cars."

Heavy sigh. You know that. You've been my mechanic more than 25 years. "Yes I do. It will be here overnight, then?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, Marty. We'll have it inside though," he assured me.

I appreciate that. A quicker answer would have been appreciated too.

How I Roll

I noticed that the outer edge of the driver's side tire of my new old van has worn considerably. As such, the first chore of mine today will be to get a new tire. I figure it'll hit me for around a hundred and a half for an inexpensive one.

But Marty, that sort of wear shows alignment issues. Don't you care about that?

Well, no. What I care about is that I have a 2007 Dodge Town and Country with 231,000 miles on it (hence, 'new old van' compared to my newer older van which is a 1996 with 185 grand against it) that isn't worth perhaps two thousand in front end work.

But better gas mileage!

Enough to overcome a couple thousand bucks over what's left of the life of the van? I doubt it.

Safety, Marty, safety!

I honestly don't think that will be a problem. I hear no clunking or other odd sounds when I drive or when I turn. I ain't concerned.

You'll need another tire in a year.

Maybe. Maybe not. If so, I'll spend another $150 on a cheap new tire then. At that rate, I'll need to get at least ten years out of the old Dodge to have paid for the front end work. The van isn't going to last that long.

Does any of this make sense? I'm open to the idea that it does not, quite honestly. Yet it's what I intend to do, and I'll tell you this: me Grandpa Joe would be proud. And that thought delights me.

A Not So Subtle Message

So, you think that Marty drives old cars? Well, he does, yes. But something happened to me brother Phil which has never happened to me. It's entirely true. He'll back me up.

Several years ago Phil was driving an old Pontiac Sunfire. I don't recall exactly how old, but it had some years (and rough driving) on it. I mean, people had begun to notice.

One day he stepped out onto his front porch and noticed that there was a flyer under the windshield wiper of the Sunfire. That wasn't unusual; we routinely have flyers placed on cars around the neighborhood for this or that reason. Yet me brother saw that no other car had a flyer. He stepped out to the street to see what the it might advertise.

The flyer proclaimed - I am not making this up (and it happened to him, not me) - that 'We buy junk cars!' and had a prominent phone number across the bottom. 

Apparently my new old cars aren't as new/old as his. Did I mention, BTW, that he had a second flyer put on that same vehicle a few months later?

Two things about a Marty car

This morning, I saw my son off as he drove my old Chevy Venture to his home in Ohio. As he and my daughter-in-law were wanting a vehicle and as I had bought a new old car in June, I did the Dad thing and simply gave them the old van. For their use, doing nothing more than tooling around town where they live, it really should be good for awhile yet.

But it got me to thinking, specifically about the age of the old van but also in general. It was made in 2000: as I remarked to my son before he left, that meant it rolled off the assembly line when he was still in high  school. Now that's putting perspective on things.

Further, I think that it may well be the first time in my life that I passed on a car for continued use rather than selling it for scrap value. As a rule I run my cars into the ground, replacing them only because abject necessity demanded it. I feel okay about the deal though. I took reasonably good care of it. The old Venture truly ought to be all right indefinitely, especially with the relatively limited miles of only driving it in the local environs.

So I've set a new standard for Marty cars. Let's see how long that lasts; probably only until I get rid of my new old van, if I were to, ahem, venture a guess.

Anthropomorphism makes me sad

Now there's a nice, big, college type word for you. A true ten dollar word: anthropomorphism. It means giving human traits to animals or inanimate objects. Yogi Bear for example is anthropomorphic: a bear that walks and talks like a human.

I think we all do that to one degree or another. I find myself doing it with the van I just replaced. I snapped a picture of her yesterday, for old times's sake, for my memory, because I thought she looked sad. As anyone who has ever read The Family Circus comic growing up knows, our old cars feel sad when we give up on them.

As I arrived at the Shop this morning, driving up in my new old van (which I described yesterday) I looked over at my old old one. It's temporarily parked to the side of the old barn as I decide exactly what to do with it. Anyway, I looked over at it and I sighed. Heavily. I'm gonna miss it, that old Chevy Venture. For $1500 four years ago, I got 68,000 miles out of her. We had a lot of good times together, making pickups and deliveries and going on product demos. We must have went to Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula six or eight times. I helped my son get his new stove home with it. She took me to curling many times, to golf and to see friends and family, to Church and to baseball games. How do you not grow an attachment?

She still runs okay. But the transmission ain't right and there's a few other relatively unimportant, minor issues. She could still go on indefinitely. But the time to buy a car, as me Grandpa Joe's old friend Sam said once, is before you need it, before you have to have it. Then you can take the time to look around a bit, and maybe stumble into a good deal like the one I did. It was too good to pass up.

Still, that maroon Venture sits by the old barn today looking tired and worn. And kinda sad. I understand her because, in that odd sort of a very human way, a very anthropomorphic way, I feel kinda sad too.

A losing battle for Dad's last car

I just dropped $186 bucks on brake work for my van. A line had broken loose and she needed wheel cylinders. I shouldn't have spent the money.

The old girl needs a lot of work. An exhaust system, a blower motor for the heat and defroster; there's a seal leak in the transmission and the tailgate doesn't work. The ball joints are bad and it really needs at least front tires. She's also got 159,000 miles on her and, Hell, a paint job would be nice too. But the van simply isn't worth the money it would take to repair properly. I have to remind myself of that constantly.

The problem is that it's the last vehicle Dad bought. It became mine almost through inertia after he passed; I began driving it and nobody questioned it. So it's mine now for all practical purposes.

I'm not trying to be maudlin. I'm not sitting here with tears in my eyes as I hammer out this post nor am I hammered myself. The writing's on the wall and I see it plainly. I need to get another van.

Yet I'm fighting that truth tooth and nail. This rotten old 97 Caravan feels like my last tangible connection with Pops. I just want to make it last as long as I can.