Headed Home

After a wonderful, whirlwind three days with Anita and Gary, their children Amy and Steven and fiances Mike and Sandy, the new 5 month old baby Ava, and the Italian Greyhound Joey, it was time to get back on the road. A new slough of houseguests were coming in, and Echo is probably having abandonment issues right about now. It was time to go.

On my way out of town, I stopped at "Ron's Barrels" and picked up another two blue plastic barrels for rain cisterns. Last year, the barrels had been emptied of tomato paste, making the drive to Ohio smell like pizza. This year, a milder scent of tea accompanied my drive south.

I spent last night in familiar Charlottesville, VA, site of all of my breast cancer follies of 2007-2008. It was great to visit with Mark and Jo in a purely social context. We had a delightful al fresco dining experience on a rooftop restaurant -- Mark had salad and short ribs with braised baby vegetables, Jo had crispy shrimp and seaweed salad and lasagne, and I was virtuous with a Caesar salad and half order of fresh fettucini, heirloom tomatoes, summer squash and spinach. We shared a bottle of Prosecco (Italian bubbly) and much laughter.

The little blue car is now stuffed with stuff, so I will probably have to go home, and then go back in the red car for Echo. It's just as well. She was very nervous in the unfamiliar vehicle on the way out on Monday. It will be better to pick her up in her favorite traveling vehicle for the ride home.

There will be much scolding for leaving her, I'm sure.

The new car performed better than expected--very smooth, very comfortable and 34.4 mpg on the break-in cruise, even going 70+ with the A/C on. I'm convinced I made the right choice with the Hyundai, it's a great little car.

Shakedown Cruise Tomorrow

I'm getting ready to go to Gettysburg, PA tomorrow to visit an old friend. I hadn't anticipated taking a new car on the trip, but life is funny that way--always new surprises and always a new adventure.

Today is laundry, plant maintenance, cleaning out the fridge, taking out the garbage, and throwing clothes in a bag.

I've been reading the owner's manual on my new blue baby, in preparation for the first big trip. The book is mostly taken up with big yellow WARNING! boxes and big grey CAUTION! boxes full of dire predictions on what will happen if you do this...or don't do that. I can only assume that every one of these boxes is the result of a lawsuit somewhere. At the beginning of the book, it explains that yellow means you could hurt yourself and/or die; grey means you could damage the vehicle.

Here's my favorite (yellow) so far:

WARNING! Use a coin or flat blade driver when you remove the roof carrier cover. If you use your fingernail, it may damage your fingernail!

Well, duh! Do we really need to be told this? Does it mean that without this timely warning, I could sue for a broken fingernail?

Oh, please. The Safety Nazis have taken over the universe. Now I have to be protected from a broken nail. If I'm this stupid, should I really be driving a car? Give me a break.

Score!

On Thursday, I visited three car dealerships and test drove more vehicles. Being the Queen of Dithering, I still couldn't make up my mind. I was leaning toward the Pontiac Vibe, but though the automatic was nice, the 1.8L engine had a lot more get-up-and-go with the manual transmission.

But the manual was a bare-bones, crank window, lock with a key model, though it was my budgeted price ($12,546) with the CARS rebate. What to do?

Thursday night, I read that the CARS money was all gone, over-subscribed actually, and the government website stated that the program, slated to run from July-Nov, would end at midnight on Friday.

I tossed and turned all night, waking up repeatedly, thinking about cars. Not a restful slumber, by any measure. I woke up yesterday with a new idea. The Hyundai Elantra Touring "Wagon" (actually a hatchback with delusions of grandeur) was a better value! Most of the features I wanted--a little pricey at $20,600--but maybe I could get them to come down on the price.

I did my research again on Edmonds.com and called the Hyundai salesman with my price offer, a little more than $8000 off the sticker. After a long silence on the phone, the salesman snapped, "That's not going to happen. Besides, we stopped taking Clunkers last night because the money is all gone!"

"Okay," I replied cheerfully, "call me if they put more money into the program." I went down to the basement to work out. During my exercise, the phone rang twice, and I ignored it. After my shower, I looked at my messages. The salesman had called back.

"I talked to my manager (Here we go with the dance, I thought), and he says that because we have a relationship (What? We have a relationship?) , he says he'll take your Clunker today only."

"At my price?" I asked.

"Well...come on in with your van and we'll work something out," he hedged.

I told him I'd try to get over there in the afternoon, but casually mentioned that I might not be able to make it. After hanging up with him, I thought about it long and hard. Then I hopped into the Focus and went to the bank, and had them make me a cashier's check for exactly the price I had decided was fair to me.

My thinking was that if I had the check in hand, I could wave it under their noses and let them smell the sale. It would also prevent me from getting into a situation where I might be tempted to pay more. If they didn't take it, I could then go to the Pontiac dealer and purchase the manual transmission Vibe for the same price easily.

I waited until 3 pm. Let 'em sweat a little. It had been raining hard and the driveway was slippery, so I put on my hiking boots (truly a dorky fashion statement with my capri pants and T-shirt, floppy sun hat and smelling of insect repellent) and hiked down to the van with all my paperwork.

"Lucy" started right up with a roar, and I began the trek to the far west end of Morristown, about 45 miles away. After about 10 miles of plastic window covering (the windows had been busted out by a vandal back in November) flapping enough to make me fear for my hearing, I pulled over and ripped it all off. I continued on, wind whipping through the van and tangling my hair, adding to my disreputable appearance.

Just past Bean Station, I called the salesman on my cell and told him I was 20 minutes away. Two miles later, just after I turned onto 25E, I started to smell something really bad. A burning-engine smell. A check of the gauges said everything was normal--maybe it was just exhaust from the truck ahead of me?

No, in another mile I decided it was definitely Lucy. I started to shake a little, worrying about making it to the dealership. Should I just go to the Pontiac dealer? It was closer, and the CARS rebate required that the vehicle arrive under its own power--it couldn't be towed in. I just kept driving, praying, worrying, shaking. At the last minute, I took the turnoff that would take me to the Hyundai dealer as originally planned.

I tried to talk myself down as I made my way through Morristown. I've driven a lot of marginal cars in my life, I had been in similar situations with a dying vehicle before, what was the worst that could happen? The car would die, some Good Samaritan would help me push it to the side of the road, I'd call a tow truck and have it taken to the junkyard, and I'd find a way home. Still, I couldn't slow down my heartbeat and I was breathing deep and slow, trying to stop my annoying trembling.

By the time I made it to A.J. Hwy, smoke was wafting out from under the hood. Other cars were honking at me and pointing and generally trying to alert me that "something is wrong with your car, ma'am!" No kidding. I was on a mission. I had a goal. I was either going to make it...or not. I started making plans of what I would grab as I exited the car, just in case I saw actual flames.

About 2 miles from the dealership, something started banging loudly under the hood. I kept going. As I made the last turn into the driveway, I heard an enormous KER-POW! and the engine died. I slapped it into neutral and coasted down to the showroom door. Made it! Their problem now! (She never ran again--my guess is that she threw a rod at the end).

Honestly, I can't make up stuff this good.

It took me about 8 cups of water from the cooler to calm down (I was shaking so badly, I dropped the first one on the floor). All the staff did a double-take at my wild, windblown hair and klutzy boots below white socks and bare calves.

Roger (the salesman I supposedly had a "relationship" with) and I sat down and went over the numbers. First, the hardball "no way." Then the pleading "we have to make a little profit, just to pay the light bill." Then the disparaging of my research--"you know that Edmonds doesn't update their data and they aren't in the car business." Then the requisite visits to the sales manager, with plenty of time for me to go get still another cup of water. I stayed cheerful and matter-of-fact. I agreed with him that we were all in business to make a profit.

Then I brought out my research sheets and asked him to go over everything with me, line by line. I showed him where he was making $995 profit, hidden in the dealer prep, and added into the retail of all the options. I mentioned the extra manufacturer-to-dealer incentives that weren't shown, but that I knew his dealership was getting. I brought out my cashier's check, the title to the van, my two years of registration and insurance records and said "this is my offer, you can make this happen if you want the sale."

He actually had the gall to say "Your car is dead, how are you going to get home?" I told him that I would call a cab and showed him that I had brought a Morristown phone book with me, just in case.

"What's this you have written down?" he asked.

"Oh, that's not for you, that's just a five-year depreciation schedule and that one there is the 5-year amortized cost of ownership, for my own information."

His eyes finally changed. "You really do your research, don't you?" I had just crossed over from manipulable-female-rube to savvy-buyer-to-be-reckoned-with. I knew he was beat. He took my papers with him on his final trip to the sales manager. He came back and shook my hand.

And here is my new ride:

On the drive home, I called son Alex and told him that Lucy had gone to a better place. She handled her final illness with class, getting me where I needed to go and not croaking until the last possible moment. She will become new sheet metal, and be turned into a new car, or a refrigerator or something. R.I.P. Lucy. Hello Blue-Baby.

The calm after the storm

Today was remarkably uneventful, thank heavens! I got the van back down to the field, the Focus is running as if nothing ever happened to its electrical limbic brain (it was a faulty battery/starter relay AND a very dead battery combo that felled the beast), and life is back to normal. Whatever normal is.

Normal is: Dishes and laundry (it never ends), garbage that still needs to be taken to the dump (manana, amigos), and a sorely needed dog hair abatement program. It feels like I'm changing out vacuum bags at the rate of one per day. Not that I vacuum everyday, so there, I'm exaggerating once again.

Bill calls every morning (it's evening to him), as he's been in port for the last few days. He is due to get relieved the next time they make port. His replacement wasn't quite ready to come back yet, and he's not due off until mid-August. But he's a short-timer now. Only about two or three weeks more.

I still haven't made a decision on what car to buy to replace the van. I test drove a Chevy HHR and a Dodge Caliber yesterday. The HHR stands for "Hillbilly Hot Rod," according to the salesman. Somehow, I think he was joking? A very quiet, solid car with some pep, lots of room in the back, but it just didn't fit me. There were some major blindspots, I think due to the bulbous styling and the flat windshield. It made me nervous. The Caliber was cheap and rattly, not very fun to drive. Still looking.

I was out at the pond at sunset tonight, watching the bats eat mosquitoes. I love that! Echo was busy bothering a little box turtle, who was just trying to make his way to the water. A big blue heron was eyeing us warily, as he fished from the dock.

Ah! Back to normal!

Well, THAT little drama is DONE!

Leonard from Hardesty's Auto is my new best friend!

After trying everything I could think of this morning, I called him and he came with his big "roll-back" truck.

I prepared ahead of time by getting the Focus pointed downhill, strapping myself in, and coasting in neutral down the long, steep driveway. No power brakes, no power steering, just me creeping s-l-o-w-l-y down, both legs shaking on the pedal and my hand on the emergency brake. Whew. Down to the dam where it was flat and he could get his truck in.

He winched it up on the bed, and drove it away. Four hours later, he drove it up to the house and honked the horn. I wrote him a check while leaning on the hood of my car, thanking him profusely for saving my transportation bacon.

Now, can we get back to real life? Oh wait. This IS real life. Can we get back to uneventful life, where machines do what they are supposed to do, without the intervention of money, expertise (someone else's) and worrisome frustration?

The New Plan

Bill called from Japan, and we talked about cars. I would rather talk about other things, but the situation with the cars rules my life right now. He tells me that Ford starters are notorious for needing a fully-charged battery to turn over, and perhaps our 7-year old battery is less than optimum.

So my plan this morning is to pull the fuse box and check that first. If all the fuses are good, I'll sidle the van up to the Focus and see if I can jump-start it using the power of the running van engine. This will effectively "test" the Focus battery. If it doesn't start, then it really is something other than the battery. Or, it's the battery AND something else (these things usually come in twos and threes in my experience).

If nothing works to start the Focus, then I will check the van's fluids, air up the tires, and go over to Morristown to complete my test-driving of new cars--the manual transmission Vibe (I want to compare it to the automatic), the Hyundai Elantra Touring "Wagon," and the Dodge Caliber. Let's hope the van has a few more miles in her for her big finale.

Vehicle Update

First, the good news: The van is running again!

Now, the whole tortuous woe-is-me tale of exhaustion, frustration and heat-stroke:

The rain finally settled down to a steady drizzle, I got dressed and girded myself for auto mechanics. I started by removing the Focus battery. Sounds simple, right? It involved countless trips to find the correct tools, followed by more trips in to search again for the right socket, a vertical ratchet (because there was no room to turn a right-angled one), a pair of pliers, finally wrestling the cables off the terminals and lifting the heavy beast up and out of there without dropping it. I did the same thing in reverse, moving the van battery into the Focus. Didn't fit. Cables wouldn't reach. Scrap that plan.

I levered the van battery back out of the Focus, and hooked the Focus battery up to the charger. The charger said it was fully charged. Rats. I went back outside, put the Focus battery back in again, and hooked it up again. With a nod to the car-gods, I turned it on to start. At least this time there were no alarming, flashing electronic displays--just a click and a whirr. Not the battery. Maybe the solenoid? This time I was able to get the car out of Park and into Neutral, rolled it back and around, so maybe sometime in the future, it could be jump-started, if needed.

Next, the van. I rigged up an airport luggage wheely cart with a piece of 2 x 6 lumber, placed the van battery on it and bungie-corded it in. I put Echo's collar on and let her out, while I wheeled my package s-l-o-w-l-y down the concrete driveway, bumped and dragged it across the gravel, all the way down across the wooden bridge and to the van.

I unloaded the battery, popped the hood, and hoisted the monster into the tray, avoiding the swarm of hornets that apparently built a nest inside the engine compartment. Hooked it up, another nod to the sky, and vrooom! It started!

Echo hopped in and we bounced out of the field and up the driveway to the house.

Now at least I have one working vehicle. I have a diagnostic problem with the Focus, but as soon as I get my game-face back on again, there are some things I can try to pinpoint the offending car part.

Or not. I cleaned out the van in anticipation of trading it in this week for my Obama-money, just in case.

Is it time for a nap yet?

Stranded

Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of bed in the morning.

I was all full of energy yesterday. I emptied all the trash containers in the house, loaded up the back of the red Focus with 3 weeks worth of stinky garbage, recyclables, cardboard and construction trash. My plan was to go to the dump, then go test-drive a Dodge Caliber and pick up a rack of ribs for a special supper on the way home.

I turned the key on "Old Faithful" and was rewarded with absolute silence. "Oh for crying out loud," I thought, "now what?"

Do you think that cars know when they are about to be replaced?

I rummaged around Bill's workspace and found the battery charger. I hooked it up to the battery, and unloaded all the garbage back out of the car, so it wouldn't smell up the interior on such a hot day. Then I went upstairs and stood steaming under the ceiling fan for awhile.

Four hours later, the car still wasn't showing any ambition to start. I now had clicking electronics, flashing dashboard lights and buzzing dinger-bells, but no ignition.

Oh well. I'd just walk down to the van and bring that up to the house. Deal with the Focus later. But when I got down to the field, the van's battery was dead too. Perfect.

I opened the hood, removed the battery and began the long, hot trudge up to the house, lugging the eleventy-billion pound albatross with me. It took about an hour. There was much cursing and wiping of sweat.

I put the charger on the van battery in the basement. Then I went and took a nap under the fan. The whole day was shot, and I was done.

This morning, the plan was to take the charged van battery and hook it up to the Focus. If it started, then I'd drive the Focus to the auto parts store (leaving it running) and have them test the "dead" Focus battery to see if it was completely dead, or if it just needed more charging. Then when I got back, I'd park the Focus next to the van, shut it off and remove the van battery, re-install that in the van, re-install the Focus battery in the Focus, then jump-start the Focus with the van! Drive the Focus up to the house, walk back down to the van and drive that up to the house too.

But the whole plan is on hold anyway, because it's raining to beat the band out there. And I'm still sitting here in my jammies, waiting for the rain to stop.

Oh. And if the van battery wouldn't start the Focus? Then there's something else wrong besides just a dead battery. Alternator? Starter? Fuse? Wiring? This car stuff makes my head hurt. Gnash. Grumble. Grrrrr.

I'm thinking about just going back to bed.

Kingsport Day

I'm off to Kingsport this morning, for my monthly commutation with Mr. Acupuncture. Life without pain is such a wonderful thing! I continue to be amazed and grateful for the pain relief these monthly appointments give, with the added benefit of abating the hot flashes and providing a general sense of well being. The skeptic in me is humbled.

I am also going to brave the Land of Car Salesmen today, as I have an appointment to test-drive a VW wagon. I have had Volkswagens in the past, Beetles and Dashers, and have liked them. With Obama giving away $ for clunkers, and the little red Focus getting up there in mileage, it seems like a good time to trade in the van, collect the cash and replace the family "tripster."

I like compact wagons. Very few manufacturers make them anymore. I don't like SUVs, "Crossovers," or sedans. Once again, I am out of step with what the free market has decided is the vehicle of choice. If Ford continued to make the Focus in a wagon body-style, I would buy another in a heartbeat. But they don't. Old Red is the second Focus we've owned, and it's been reliable and economical to operate.

But now I have to change; find something to replace my old friend. Subaru? VW? Something weird from Chevy called an HHR? The process of schlepping around, gearing up to say "no, no, no" to salespeople--the whole idea makes me tired and edgy.

But it must be done, so off I go...