The Joy of New Wheels

We recently acquired a 2009 Nissan Rogue (ruffian, evildoer, criminal,badass.) The contrast between our old car and the newer one hits the senses with impact, particularly the smell of the interior  and it takes me back to another era.

It was springtime, 1964. The warm spring air bore the fragrance  of the newness of life. Neighbors were mowing grass, emitting one of my favorite aromas. It was warm and I was girl-crazy. What a time to be alive!

I didn't realize that we were getting a different car until the Sunday that we got it. I went along with Dad for the bi-weekly ritual of filling the gas tank of our 1954 Chevrolet. Dad drove us down the street to Tony and Pete's Standard Service. He drove up to the pumps and Pete Larson came bounding out of the service station in his pinstriped coat with 'Pete' embroidered under the Standard Oil insignia. He also wore a matching pinstriped skull cap.

"Fill 'er up, George?"

"Just three bucks worth. The summer tires are in the trunk. Will you change 'em?"

"You betcha," Pete was wiping the windshield. "Check the oil?"

Dad nodded.

"Sure is nice to see some warm and sunny weather after that awful winter."

"Yeah, our coal bin is just about empty. Had enough of winter, for sure."

Pete pulled out the oil dipstick from the motor and squinted at it. "Half between 'add' and 'full'. If the motor was cold it probably would be three-quarters." He closed the hood. "when do you want to pick 'er up?"

"My boy can get 'er tomorrow after school if that's all right."

"Okay by me. Thanks, George."

Dad started walking away from the service station. I was baffled by Dad's logistics, as he seldom walked. He had a heart condition and the cardiac benefits of walking had not yet been realized by the medical establishment.

"You coming or not?"

I ran a few steps to catch up and I had no idea what Dad was up to and I lacked the temerity to ask. We passed the Daily Globe and continued to the intersection of McLeod and Lowell, rounded the Allender Motors building and then we went through one of the service doors of this Ford dealership. We went from the spring brightness to the fluorescent gloom of the service bays. The odor of grease and gasoline and the pungent residual of primer and lacquer. The shop was neatly kept. Tool chests on castors rested in front of the inactive workbenches.

An old man emerged from the office (he must have been at least fifty.) I recognized Bill Limaaka from church. He always was chatting and laughing with someone after the service was over. Winsome and easy to talk with, ever maintaining his clientele base. I thought Bill should have been in politics.

 Good to see you, George." Bill extended a hand and then turned to me and extended me the same courtesy. "You must be old enough to drive," he said with an avuncular smile. I always liked Bill, but this was my first encounter with him.

"Well, there she is, George," Bill handed Dad the keys to a light blue 1962 Ford Galaxie sedan. "Go and try 'er out for a couple days. I think you'll like 'er. We cleaned 'er up real good, waxed 'er and the inside is fresh and clean. She's just like new and only eighteen thousand miles."

Dad got behind the wheel and I went in the other side. The doors closed with a tight, solid thud. I was used to the rattly doors on the Chevy coupe. The engine was barely audible when Dad started it, another stark difference with the Chevy.

Bill knocked on Dad's window and Dad rolled it down.

"I didn't tell you, George but the brakes are power-assisted, so just a light touch does it."

Dad backed the Ford out of the garage in jerky fashion until he got the hang of the brakes. He headed right back to Tony and Pete's. Pete came out right away. "Holy cow, George! What do we have here?"

"She looks brand-new. I won't even have to wipe the windshield, it's so clean. V-8 engine?"

"Yup, go ahead and pop the hood."

"Yup, that's a 292. That's been a real good motor, George. I've serviced a lot of 'em.Gonna take 'er out for a spin?"

"I'll try 'er for a few days. Put in five bucks regular, ok?"

"You betcha."

I think Dad really stopped at Tony and Pete's to show it off. I wondered if he was going to trade in the old Chevy. It was rusted badly, lacking rocker panels and the front seat rocked slightly because of the rotted floor.The windshield had a crack in it and it's paint was dulled by the severe winter. I had driven it many times already. Dad first took me to the cemetery to get the hang of driving the stick-shift. I killed the motor a few times and ground the gears before my right hand and my left foot got synchronized. I had driven it to the cottage in Mercer once and Mom said she was so nervous that her feet were curled up the whole trip.

"Gonna trade in the old buggy?"

"I don't think I'd get too much for it. Rusted out pretty bad, but the motor runs good. You know what? I'll let my boy have it."

I felt my jaw drop. This was too good to be true! But it was true. I could see that Dad meant it.

"It's a fixer-upper, but you can take care of that," Dad said with a little chuckle. "That's your birthday and Christmas present for the next three years."

We all had a good laugh.

When we were ready to leave Dad launched another jaw-dropper.

"You drive." He handed me the keys.

I got behind the wheel, adjusted the rear-view mirror and located the ignition, to the left of the steering wheel. I almost launched Dad through the windshield with my first touch of the power brakes, but I quickly adjusted to the brakes and the power steering.

It was like driving inside a cloud, no rattles, a responsive motor, easy steering. I had the urge to hit the gas and see how responsive it really was but I played it safe. It was a good time, a time I'll always remember.

The present is not parallel but similar. We had the 1995 Taurus for almost eighteen years. Motor was still running as strong as the day we bought it but a rusted body and underside necessitated a different car.

There's a thrill to turning the key in a crisp used car and a strange challenge to learn how to operate all the bells and whistles that have become vogue in the last eighteen years. For example, the shifter is on the console. The last time I drove a car so equipped was in my 1967 Mustang. In the Nissan I activated the windshield wipers, front and rear when I wanted to put the transmission in Drive. A month later I am still tripping over that. Old habits die hard.

It's the same cycle. The old, faithful sedan rusts to the point of no return, in spite of its strong drive-train. The luster is gone and the luster of newer cars carries us away. We commit to monthly payments that strain the budget. With our loved ones in lower Wisconsin and lower Michigan, that commitment is necessary.

The last time we saw the the Taurus it was in the dealer's lot bearing a sign, "$1599.00. Runs great! Only 102,000 miles!" It also bore a 'hold' sign under a wiper. It wasn't there for long, closing a long chapter in our car ownership. By the way, we got $700.00 in trade and the dealer only told us the negative aspects of our car. Didn't mention that it runs great. That's why he's rich.

God's Laws of Physics

The cold weather had been distressing. On January 1, 5:00 p.m. the other night - shift worker called to ask if I could take her place since she has the flu. (You must find someone to work your shift.) Of course I consented, recalling how someone helped me last winter when I was in agony with the stomach flu.

Around 8:30 I took each of the dogs for a short outing. I'm careful of the possibility of frostbite in their paws. After the dogs were squared away I went to plug in Lois' car. I lifted the garage door and flipped the light switch.  Darkness!

Next I said a short prayer for my truck which sits outside. I hadn't started it for over thirty-six hours, but I had the heater plugged in.
Didn't matter as the truck only made a zapping, clicking noise.

Now the problem was to restore power to the garage. I checked the fuse panel in the garage and from there I went into the basement and checked for a tripped circuit breaker. Next I started to check each junction box on that circuit. I was in and out of the house several times without success.

The pressure built and I was  sending up prayers as I needed the truck to start and I needed electricity so I could try to charge the battery. After checking the connections in each box I went outside to see if the garage lights came on. Frustration set in and anger followed as it was now 9:45 and my shift started at 11:00.

My heart beat faster with the urgency of the situation. I would try Lois' car to jump-start the truck. The old Taurus started like a champ. The truck would not.

"What do you want me to do," I prayed angrily, as I put the Taurus back into the garage.

Back into the basement. I shut off the power to the garage and checked several junction boxes.  This time I twisted the wire nuts to ensure a good connection. It was ten o'clock and I knew that I wouldn't make it to work.

Back outside, I found the garage lights were on, so now I would connect the battery charger to the truck. Problem was, I had locked myself out of the truck so I couldn't release the hood. (Expletive) There was another set of keys hanging in the house. I would call work to explain the situation. With phone in hand I punched in the numbers with great difficulty. My arthritis reacts when I work outside, bare handed. My hands were also trembling from anxiety and anger.

I explained my plight and I got some help. The assistant manager would cover my shift, bless her heart. I told the person working the desk to convey my extreme gratitude. I took the extra keys and got into the truck, although it was painful for me to turn the key.

I was shivering violently and it was difficult to connect the charger to the battery, but the connection was made. I set the charger for a slow charge. By the morning this truck would start.

After I was in our warm house for a while I began to warm up and my thoughts quit whirling. I took a cup of hot tea upstairs and I had no sooner  changed into pajamas that the phone rang. It was the assistant manager. She needed me to walk her through the computer audit.

First I apologized for not making it and she was gracious and sympathetic to the point of putting me at ease. I walked her through for about the next forty-five minutes and the day ended well. I slept well and the next morning the truck started.

I realized how screwed-up my thoughts were the night before. Why did God let the power fail in the garage? Why did the night turn into a hellish cascade of events?

I realized that God had nothing to do with that. Things happen, following the laws of physics, which He established. I realized how foolish I had been. When there is a negative situation and my mind whirls it, whips it into a catastrophe. The devil whispers, "You can't fix this...God caused this, you know. After all He's in control."

I've fallen into that trap hundreds of times. When will I learn? I apologized to God.