After nine years and over 106,000 miles together (she had 59,000 on her when we bought her), I’m finally putting my old black horse out to pasture.
I’m going to miss her.
We bought her back in January 2002, a month before our oldest daughter was born. We needed a new car with a little more room for a baby. She outlasted three other cars (plus three years of our mommy van). In the past year, I’ve essentially paid a car payment each month replacing old parts. Last week, I pulled into the driveway and smoke started pouring out of the hood. Antifreeze was everywhere. I suspect a weak head gasket, which I’ve been nursing for several years. As badly as I want to fix her and keep her going, I can’t do it anymore.
Although I’m a little frustrated at the inconvenience, I’m not worried. If this would have happened five years ago, I would have freaked out and worried as if God did not exist. I know better now. This isn’t worth worrying about. I’ll say my good-byes, and hopefully trade her in on one of these bad boys:
Aw, snap! The ultimate in octogenarian luxury. The definition of “Chaplain Car”. And the standard in dependability (my father swears by these Buicks). I’m past the age where I care about what my car looks like. I just want something that’ll stay out of the shop.
Although some 26′s with spinners and a sub in the back would thug it out.