A Love for the Ages

I love my car. This hasn't always been the case, but it has definitely grown on me. It isn't exactly the biggest serving of eye candy you will ever get, and it will more than likely break down any day now, or so I've been thinking for several years. I drive a 1989 Mercury Tracer. That's right. It's the real deal. I think once upon a time it was painted red, but even my colorblind self can easily see that continuing to call it red would be a disgrace to colors everywhere. It's probably something close to a nice pink these days and I hope I will have it long enough that it will reveal many more new and exciting colors in the years to come.

I guess a little background info is in order to completely understand the history behind the beautiful machine that is my automobile. I've had it for five years, which means it came to me already in the twilight of its life. My cousin Brent heard I needed a car when I got back home from my mission, and he offered to give it to me for free if I picked it up. The only hiccup was that he lives in Bend, Oregon, which is about 10 hours away from my house. But hey, how often are you offered a free car? So my grandparents, my dad, and I drove up in their pickup truck, which needless to say was one of the worst car rides of my life, only exacerbated by the fact that it was in the middle of a horrible snowstorm. (Hence taking a truck instead of a normal, comfortable car.) We finally arrived in Bend, picked up the car and started the drive back, and miraculously, the roads were crystal clear and the weather had completely changed for the better. I'm thinking to myself that this baby is a good luck charm! Not so fast, tiger.

As soon as we crossed the Oregon/California border, all hell broke loose. It started snowing like crazy, to the point that we could hardly see the road, and we were having some serious problems tractionwise. It would have made sense not to keep driving, but we were trying to get home to celebrate new years, so we forged ahead. Then it happened. A harbinger of things to come for my new car and I. The windshield wiper motor went out. Whose windshield wipers give out?! Seriously!! We're probably about five hours from home at this point, and maybe two or three from getting out of snow range, so we do what any father/son team would do in this situation: keep going. We found some rope in the trunk and constructed a puppeteer like system for clearing the snow off the windows. The rope was tied to the end of each of the wipers and we rolled the windows down so that we could pull the ropes back and forth while driving. Shockingly, it worked quite well. Not to say it was a comfortable ride. Have you ever driven with the window down in a snowstorm? I wouldn't recommend it, unless you are looking to pick up the always popular souvenir I like to call hypothermia. It was awful. To make matters worse, the rope was wearing my hands raw from my Gippetto impersonation. Miraculously, we ended up getting the car home without being killed. We got everything fixed, and I was able to take the car back to school with me.

I should have known things would never be easy for us. A month later I was driving on the overpass that leads to the Provo Towne Centre Mall, on a date mind you, and what do my wondering eyes should appear, but a car, parked in the middle of the road. There was traffic on both sides of me, so all I could do was slam on the brakes, resulting in my rear ending the idiot in the middle of the road. Great date! Needless to say, things didn't work out.

Fast forward a year. A couple buddies of mine and I are headed down to St. George to be in a good friend's wedding. Once again we hit a snowstorm and this time we break down altogether just outside of Beaver, Utah. What else would happen?! Come on! After freezing our aces off for an hour or so waiting for the tow truck to find us in the middle of the night, we are forced to get a hotel room and miss the wedding. Oh, well. Spending a couple hundred bucks on tow truck fees and the finest hotel Beaver had to offer was fun too.

I could go on and on, but I won't. Needless to say, we've had our struggles. I used to think that it would be awesome to have a sweet car to cruise around in and pick up women. Like a great wingman who brings them in, but doesn't swoop in and intercept. Not anymore. My car is so much better than that. It is a true litmus test when it comes to women. Is she shallow? I'll know within one car ride. Materialistic? Please, Big Red won't allow that ish around here. If a girl can be cool with riding in my pocket protector on wheels, she is good enough for me.

I'm not sure how much time we have left together. The glove box fell off. The heating takes about 20 minutes to kick in. The tailpipe rattles like a tambourine. When it's cold, it idles at about 3000 rpm. The front windshield leaks and has a big crack. The trunk rarely closes. Most recently, I think the shocks have given out, and the back left side of the car is riding perilously low as a result. Am I worried? Hardly. I plan on still having this dreamboat of a ride when I get married and actually have to be a grown up in 10 years. Of course, by then I will be 42.

But then, what is life if not growing old with the ones you love?