Polished Scrawl

On Monday, I took The LeMousine for his last ride. The hassle of trying to sell him would have been more trouble than it was worth, so I decided to sell him to a salvage yard for whatever they would give me…which turned out to be a whopping $50.

The yard is called Sunset Beach. It’s situated by a little lake, and has a donkey that wanders around the premises. It’s almost as if I took my car to a nice little automobile retirement village, where he can be with other cars and have a lake and animals to play with. Which, strangely enough, actually made me feel a little better about having to get rid of my first car. Well, to be accurate, The LeMousine was technically my third car, but he was the first car that was actually mine; that I actually owned and was responsible for.

The LeMousine and I traveled a lot of miles together, through a lot of “interesting times”…as the old Chinese curse goes. He was the Timex of cars; he took many a licking (three accidents and three break-ins), but kept on ticking. He was a work-horse and a pack-mule. He moved my earthly possessions more times than I can recall, all of which had their pre-designated spot in the back seat or the trunk. Iowa to Savannah to Iowa to Savannah to Dallas and then back home again…with countless stops along the way.

He was a good little car. He lived a good, well-traveled life. He ran and ran and ran and made it to the gas station every time, even with his Empty light blaring. He knew that we’d stop at Williamsburg, or the Iowa 80 Truck Stop. His turning radius was beyond compare. He could parallel park into spaces that others considered to be madness. He bumped down quiet cobblestone streets, and fought the insanity of Dallas.

He was a good little car, but even good little cars can’t do without clutches and CV boots, and can only go so far on a cupped tire. So now The LeMousine gets to rest, and turn into the Legend that all good little cars hope to be.

I’m afraid I have some bad news.

The LeMousine, car of myth and adventure… of legend and lore… is dying.

The first signs came on Saturday, when the cruise control suddenly stopped working, followed by the abrupt malfunction of the dashboard and brake lights two days later. Today, I took him in to the Toyota dealer, and found out that:

• An electrical connection in one of the lights has degraded to the point that two connectors are touching that normally aren’t supposed to, causing several fuses to blow. Hence the malfunctioning dashboard and brake lights.
• One of the rear tires is “badly cupped” and needs to be replaced.
• New spark plugs are needed.
• The CV boots on the front axle are leaking, which, if left untreated, can lead to axle failure.
• A power steering hose is leaking.
• The clutch could go at any moment, which was causing the engine to over-rev (is that a word?) and was preventing the operation of the cruise control.

The final tally put the repair bill at a level higher than the value of the car itself… so arrangements are currently being made for LeMousine’s replacement. More as the situation develops…

While trying to leave work today, I made to lift the door handle on my car in the usual manner required to subsequently open said door. Only, this time… I, instead, managed to tear nearly the entire handle directly off the door. This, as you might imagine, is not the usual result. How did this happen, you ask? The answer is simple: I am the most intensely strong human being ever to exist on the planet Earth.

Either that, or I had one of those things where, in times of great distress, a person can temporarily perform Herculean feats of strength, say to lift an entire Chevy Tahoe off of the pinned body of a loved one. Of course, it seems that mine was grossly mis-timed…

Hm… nah, I think I’ll stick with the thing where I’m the strongest, most virile human alive, fueled by Earth’s yellow sun. Yeah… yeah that’s more awesome. Although, I’ll have to temper my powers, lest this blessing become a curse, and I destroy everything I love with the slightest touch.

Actually, I wonder if it’s maybe just that the door handle had become brittle due to age and weather… … … no, no surely not. The only logical explanation is that I am now the sole protector of the human race against all dangers, and that my physical might will become legend.

… yikes, that sounds like a lot of work, though.

You know what? Never mind. Here we go…I’m gonna’ start over.

Today my car handle broke when I tried to get in. Why? I dunno… probably ’cause it’s old… The end.