Car Chronicles: Part Three: Never Say Never

Well, we have done something we have said that we would never do. What is that saying again? Never say never? (Along those lines, I would NEVER go hang out in Europe all summer or win the lottery. Does it work that way if you say it, but really, actually want it?)

Anyway, curious what the ‘never’ is? Well <gulp> it is actually two things. We said we would NEVER buy a NEW car and we would NEVER finance a car.

At least the whole never buy a mini-van thing hasn’t happened. Whew! That could have been a close one.

So, yes. I turned my back on my husband in the Toyota dealership for five minutes. Apparently, that is long enough for him to stumble across a new car (discounted because of tiny hail damage dings) and fall in love with it. Enough to not only buy it, but to finance it.

We were looking at used cars, but out here used cars are crazy prices! So, as we discovered, we could put another five grand into a car, give ourselves a bit of financial breathing room (by using the dealerships financing which is better than our line of credit, which we would have had to use for a used car) and have a car that should be problem free for years. Craziness.

So are you curious what we bought? Are you? Are you?

I am so pumped!

We bought a tiny little sedan called the Toyota Yaris.

Essentially it is the Echo with a new name and a new body and a trunk. And a carseat fits in the back quite nicely, which is a nice change for us. And it is cheap and gets 41-51 mpg (Canadian). Sweet! The only problem with any car is that my hubby is going to have it used up in no time flat. (He will be commuting 100km per day next year to get to and fro his new job. But at least he won’t be nearly as worried about getting there. He has always been really paranoid about that–to the point where I used to have to drive the 18-year-old gas car the 120km for my daily commute (and have the nonplug in parking spot) whereas he took the diesel car (with I might add–not only had working doors but also had more than AM radio (it had a CD player)) for his 60km commute. No, I’m not bitter. Not at all…. I mean, it doesn’t matter that my cars mostly got me to work and if his car didn’t start at minus thirty, he’d take mine and I’d have to call AMA and be late for work.

Anyway, this car is so cute and so sweet and so amazingly nondescript (it is silver) that I will NEVER be able to find it in a parking lot. (There is that ‘never’ word again.) It’s a good thing it is already dinged, otherwise my hubby would moan over every new scratch and ding…oh yeah, he’ll do that anyway.

I can hardly wait to drive it everywhere! Except for the miniscule clutch that is so springy and well, new, that I stall it all over the place. On the test drive, whenever I started out anywhere, all my hubby heard was, “Did I stall it? Is it still running? I can’t hear anything.” So, finally, tired of stalling it with its tiny little clutch and tiny little sweet spot, I floored it and released the clutch. Wow!

Hello? Dealership? Yes, could we get a new car? This one doesn’t seem to have any rubber left on the tires. Yes, well, there are some nice little strips on the pavement over in Springbank. Um, yeah, I don’t know how that happened. Really? Well, I don’t think I want to buy a car that has been treated that way. I mean, afterall, I am a lady driver.

I think I heard something from the salesman that sounded an awful lot like, “Drive it like you own it, not like you stole it.” But that was when he was telling us how we should break it in, not um, how to test drive it.

So, in a few days we should get our Golf back from the shop, all fixed up and happyish. (It needs a head gasket, I think.) So, if you know of anyone who wants a good little, economical car and doesn’t mind putting a head gasket in, we’ve got their car!

And then we’ll get the Yaris. Such a cool name. Now we have to think of a name for the little guy. Maybe we should call it ‘Doug’.

The Car Chronicles: Part Two: Done Digging

Well, the verdict is in. Our beloved Golf is toast. Well, essentially. $550 to fix the power steering. Another hundred for the speedometer. Good news: the exhaust appears fine. Bad news: no real evidence of where all the coolant is going. You know what that means? The engine is burning it. And faster as of late. That means…toast. The engine is about done. That or the head gasket. Probably the head gasket. I suppose what do you expect after over 320,000km? Poor baby. My hubby is real sad.

So basically, it will be like living with a terminal patient when we get our car back. We will tearfully be remembering all the good times and feeling guilty (almost) for refusing to give it an engine transplant. There are just too many things falling off of it to make it a good candidate. It’s a good thing I never got around to putting those new bumper stickers on it.

Hopefully we’ll get the car back next week. I left my coat and hat in it. We’ve been borrowing my father’s Grand Marquis which we have been babysitting. And that thing is Grand alright. You could put another person between me and the driver’s side door–while I’m driving. Unfortunately, when you are used to a diesel that goes 800km on about forty bucks, the Grand Marquis is not so grand at the gas station, or at least it is grand, but your feelings of financial generosity are not.

I suppose we have gotten the $6000 or so we paid for it eight years ago. Let’s see, we bought it in November of 1999. It is June of 2007…so we’ve owned it for 91 months. That’s only $65.94 per month! Yes, we got our money’s worth. Especially if someone still wants it for $1500 or $2000 or something. Then it would only be about $43.96 a month. Dang! That is pretty good!

In a way, I am a bit relieved to be done with that car. It doesn’t like me. It leaves me places. And it wants repairs, like, every year! (If you are reading this oh wonderful hubby dear, yes I love the car. It is nice. It’s just time for it to go. I’m sorry, but really, deep down inside, that is how I truly feel.) And besides, our Shadow starts with immense amounts of neglect.

So now begins the car buying game. Put on your tough buyer face and jump in. Actually, when it comes down to it, I really like buying used cars. Waaaaay more than buying a new pair of jeans–that is torture. Only problem is that any decent car seems to cost over $10,000. I think we have raised our expectations a bit. The $1500 cars just don’t have the same appeal after you discover that tow trucks can NOT haul the whole family (including carseated little ones) from wherever you have broken down to the shop. So, the whole financial part of the equation sort of blows. If I had say, $15,000 to blow on a car, oh my god! I would have SO much fun!!!!

Hey, anyone want to buy a book? Or three?

Car Chronicles: Part One: Road Trip

Today was road trip day.

We finally got everyone together and hit the road around 11ish. Seeing that our speedometer was acting a bit wacky, we pulled over at a geocache to see if we could wiggle the wire. Well, honey it got wiggled…and broken. Because the speedometer wasn’t working, the odometer wasn’t either. So as my hubby said, “free miles!” Unfortunately, it still consumed its diesel as per usual. And, just because it didn’t think that it was going somewhere didn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t break down. But, we’ll get to that.

Geocaching. Yes, so, us girls went to find the ‘treasure’ with the kids while the guys excitedly tinkered (and broke) the car. Whatever. At least it is definitively broken now so we can get it fixed once and for all. The kids chose to trade some items for some tattoos. And then went on and on about how they needed water to apply the tattoos. Very nice tattoos. But you know, with all those mosquitoes, at least I got to see if rubbing the inside of a banana peel on the bite eases the itching. (It does.)

Back on the road…got to the grocery store to pick up the meat and cheese and veggie trays for the art show opening. The people there were so excited that we finally got there to pick them up that they forgot to give us the crackers. Being sorta slow and chatting between our vehicles, we were still outside a bit later when they realized and came out with our crackers. Sweet. We are at one with the universe.

On to Carbon! We arrived early, cookie bag depleted and red hot from the black interiored car with no air conditioning. I knew I should have ridden in the other car. They have AIR!

All is well, the kids are having fun getting rides up the handicap chair lift on the stairs. After a lovely picnic out in the gallery’s garden and of course, admiring the art and visiting with people, we headed off for pie! YUM! The moment we have all been eagerly anticipating.

So, we are about 10km from the gallery and a zillion from home and have not yet gone ‘the 20km out of the way for pie’ when bang! A burst of smoke comes billowing out from the front passenger side. Loud squealing fills the air. Great. Just great. I had a feeling that we were going to breakdown today. And not just because my hubby the tech god was having computer and GPS troubles this morning. See, I have the soon-to-be-proverbial black thumb of tech troubles and he has magic tech fingers. I kill the cars and…well, I kill the cars. So, when I had the magic tech fingers this morning and he was doing the driving…well, you know how to spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

So, I hop out of the car and pop the hood. Well, the smoke is already gone. Just like that. Smells like rubber. Tire is fine though, that is the first thing I checked. So, we all peer in there and everything looks okay. But I tell you, that smoke just about had the guys speed dialing the tow truck. (It was quite impressive, really. I wish I had taken a photo.) So, I started up the car, after telling them to get their heads out from under the hood. Everything seems good. Typical. The car is like that. Someday I will tell you about the trip where our 2 hour trip turned into 10 due to a loose block heater cord. Yeah, that messed things up in a superficial sort of way. The car always acts all dramatic over some tiny, little, stupid thing. That car has a weird sense of humour. It’s not nicknamed ‘Schiz’ for random reasons.

On we go. And then hubby tries to steer. Ugh. That is hard! Damn, it was the power steering! Gone. So, who knows just how bad it is, but we drove it home. We have no mercy on our old beaters. Currently, we have a list about as long as our arm for repairs on that poor car. And last night, just spend $1600 on airfare to visit family this summer. Yeah…so not exactly flush for making repairs at the moment. Yikes.

Needless to say, we drove home daydreaming about new cars and when I got home, I called my grandma to see if she is thinking of trading in her Saturn yet. She is getting close to the 5 year trade-in mark. Although, since she is in her late eighties, she is wondering if it is smart to buy a new car. Do it for us, Grandma! Do it for us! You can do it! You’ll be driving until you are a hundred! (Really, she is a FABULOUS driver. We once figured out (through degrees of separation) that she has pretty much taught everyone in the extended family how to drive. And I might add, our accident record is quite good–as in we don’t hit things–other than animals. But that is mostly my brother. He makes up for the rest of us humane types.)

So now we begin saving up for replacing our old beaters…<Sigh>

Still

Facebook is crazy. It is a great tool for getting in touch with old acquaintances or friends that you have lost touch with–provided that they are on Facebook. But it is also just another place to have to check for messages from friends, etc. Assuming that they send you replies.

Which brings me to my I-Have-No-Self-Esteem Moment of the month. First of all, I need to ask you this: do you fit in? Do you fit in wherever you go? For me, those questions are moot because I don’t think I have ever really, truly felt like I fit in. (With the exception of my immediate family.) School, work, social networks, I’ve never truly felt like I fit in or ‘click’. Sure, I have friends. It’s not like I am socially incompetent or something, I just am one-of-those-things-that’s-not-like-the-others.

Not too long ago, I went to a party where people were talking about stuff that I ‘see’ or ‘think’ or ‘believe’ or is ‘up my alley’ and I was like, WOAH! This is friggin’ great. Unfortunately, I don’t really know the people and will likely never see them again and I think in some ways, they thought I was the ‘mainstreamer’ in the group. Which is so heart wrenching, because, yes, in some ways, I am, but at heart, I’m not. For example, it didn’t matter where their quirky conversations turned, I was right there with them. And not just nodding my head and B.S.ing like a wannabe. I could out alternative them in three sentences of life background, if I was so inclined. But I guess I’m not.

I’m just different.

So, basically, I’m feeling sorry for myself today. It has been a few weeks (months) of trying to expand my social network and I feel like I just can’t find people like me. I have never really fit in anywhere, so shouldn’t I be used to it by now? Answer: yes, and does it really matter whether I fit in or not?

Oh yeah, I was making a point about Facebook, wasn’t I? You see, I finally signed up. I’m not part of any networks, I haven’t let Facebook into my e-mail to badger my friends, I don’t have photos of me (evidently, I am the photographer in the family), but I have hooked up with some old friends, which is nice. I was so pumped when I ‘made friends’ with some old buddies. They won’t turn their backs! It will be like old times full of laughs and backhanded compliments and pointed barbs.

Maybe I am just needy, but my ‘friends’ just don’t seem to care about being anything more than having me listed as a ‘friend’ on Facebook. It’s like they are collecting ‘friends’, but don’t want to actually get reacquainted or take an actual, genuine interest. And no, it’s not like I asked them to come straight over to my house and stay a week so we could get reacquainted. I sent simple, nice, hey-how-are-you e-mails and not-much-is-new-here-with-the-exception-of-x-y-and-z, and no reply. I wrote little notes on their walls, made kind and I-connect-with-you comments on their photos. Did I come across wrong? Is it me? Is it? Is it? (Okay, that’s me being all needy.)

So, does that mean that I don’t even fit in on Facebook? I mean, if I don’t even fit in in the cyber world…

This is where I suck it up and go to bed. G’night.

Road Trip Plans

The first ever Hiebert-Oram road trip is scheduled for tomorrow. It should be an interesting and fun day. Originally, we planned to leave the house around 12:30ish to make it to my mom’s art show opening at 2. Now we are the meat and cheese delivery people. So it is important that we get there before the art show guests, so bump that time up a bit. Now we are leaving around lunchtime, so we have lunch to contend with, plus the traveling over 150km with three kids 5 and under. So, when the heck do you leave? We are thinking leave around 10 to make sure we get there by 2…

So let’s pack a lunch and load up the GPS with geocaches! We’re going on a road trip! Ah yes, and we have to stop for pie on the way home. Country Cousins’ pie is the BEST ever! I challenge anyone to top it.

You know, I wonder about road bullies. I really do. Driving on the QE2 in Alberta is an interesting adventure. I also find it varies on how you are treated depending on the vehicle you drive. The older, smaller, rattier nondescript car you drive, the worse you are treated. The bigger, nicer and newer vehicle you drive, the better you are treated. That highway is like a little snapshot of our society, eh?

Here’s to no road bullies tomorrow!