We had some major car issues in the past two weeks.
The transmission light came on last Friday in the vehicle that SuperHubby drives everyday. The subsequent mechanical assessment said the transmission needed to be rebuilt. Of course. It couldn't just need a solenoid or some minor adjustment. That's not how things work in our house when it come to cars. Nope, complete rebuild. I should be kind as this is the first thing his car has needed since we got it 4 years ago. The timing could have been better as he and Ace were heading out to Pittsburgh for the annual baseball birthday adventure this weekend. Notice that car problems occur the week prior to vacations far away from home? Yeah, that's how things are around here.
The transmission light on one car just happened to occur the same day we had decided it was time to get a new car for me as my vehicle has been behaving very, very badly. First the water pump had a hissy fit and needed to be replaced. Then the main belt cracked and squealed and a new one was put on. While driving home from work two weeks ago, my alternator decided it was jealous of all the attention other parts of the car were getting and stopped working. I must mention that it timed it's temper tantrum as I was approaching a very busy intersection. All the gauges went dead and pegged, the power steering failed to steer and the brakes no longer wanted to stop the car without the weight of an elephant's foot stomping down on the pedal. Luckily I was able to coast off the road without too much blaring of horns and middle finger salutes from the rest of crowd heading home on a Friday night.
AAA is my friend.
I did embarrass myself at the dealership by breaking down in tears at the prospect of trading in my car. Who knew I was so attached to this thing? I suppose it shouldn't have been such a surprise after all. The car had been my Dad's and I've been driving it since he died. I could still catch the scent of the cigars he would smoke while he drove around. The steering wheel had the nicks in it from his restless fingernails. My Dad spent a lot of driving time in that car while he coped with my mother's death. While she was hospitalized and after she died, he drove around in that car for hours, puffing away on some cigar, as he couldn't settle and hated being alone in their home without her. There were burn holes in the driver's seat upholstery where cigar ashes had fallen. Coffee stained the floor mats from his perpetual cup while he drove.
As SuperHubby and the sales guy wrangled and haggled over price, the problems with my car came up and I got defensive and felt the tears at the back of my throat. SuperHubby and I had discussed keeping the car as a third for emergencies and suddenly we were discussing trade in values? No no no no No. I HAD to keep this car, didn't they get it? I didn't have to drive it, I just had to keep it. It was Dad's.
So when the trade in on my car became a firm part of the deal and SuperHubby asked me whether we wanted the deal or not, I stood there staring at him while the tears poured down my face. If I said No, I knew we would go home and nothing would be said about it. But the practical part of me knew we had gotten the lowest price possible: as I said SuperHubby had done his research. There was also an antifreeze leak in the engine of my car and we would only be putting band-aids on the problem. I nodded my acceptance and cried all the way back into the showroom. Feeling like a complete moron. It was only a car, wasn't it?
Many dollars later we had arrangements to pick up the new car this past Monday. SuperHubby drove it all week while I carpooled to work as his was still in for repair. It all worked out as he was able to pick his car up in time to drive it to Pittsburgh. I do believe the credit card squealed in pain when the transmission was paid for however and I have the trusty new one to keep me from loosing what is left of my sanity on the side of the road.
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