My car-ifically, car-rible car experience

Betsy dreaming about the next car trip

I spend enough time in a car that I should love driving.  And to some extent I do, but that’s a very, very tiny extent.  For the most part, CD’s and public radio help me get from here to there and back without the voices in my head giving me too much grief.  I don’t think I have ADD, but driving compromises my ability to hold distraction at bay.  I can make a 2 hour trip last 4 hours.  It’s worse when I drive with Betsy Bosty.  She is blind and a little senile so I stop when she gets restless, then stop again 15 minutes later because she forgot why we stopped 10 miles back.

I have a relationship with my car.  It isn’t a good one.  If this were a marriage relationship, we’d be in counselling or settling up our assets which my spendthrift car has squandered in oil and fuel pumps and thermostats and tires.  So no assets to settle, I would guess.  That would make the divorce easy.

Work it, baby!

I took today off so I can wash and detail my Jezebel Mazda and pimp her out on Craigslist or to a car dealer as a trade in.  When I bought her two years ago, a selling point was her low mileage.  Forty five thousand miles later, not such a benefit.  She still looks pretty.  And after spending $700 at the car repair place getting her back on the road, she sounds pretty.  I plan to make her as gorgeous as I can and then park her until she gets sold or traded.  I don’t travel 1,000 miles in her without her coughing up antifreeze or sticking out a tire so she can snag a tow truck.

Armed with Auto Trader’s list of how to clean your car inside and out (, I am working on the outside and inside of the little cheater.  Bob said to print out the list regarding engine and battery cleaning and he will take care of that part.  I don’t dare drive her after she is beautifully detailed and at her superficial best.  I am hoping the poor bastard who gets her will have 1,000 miles to think he made a steal.  Definitely will have to sell to a HE; I wouldn’t sell my terrorist car to another woman.  Call me sexist, but we have enough things going against us women without car troubles.  I have suffered enough with that car for a battalion of women.

Is that fuel injector cleaner in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

I’m going to give Chevrolet a shot for my next car.  They are largely made in the USA with a combination of parts and assembly at more than 80%.  Toyota Camry has a higher percentage at 83% but they do not use union shops.  With the hit that labor has taken over the past 30 years, I want to support any entity that pushes to improve wages and conditions of the American worker.   My buying American made may not make a big difference to the national landscape, but it means something to me.

I’m going to list it for a couple of weeks and if it doesn’t sell, then I’ll use it as a trade.  I like either a Chevrolet Cruze or Equinox as a replacement vehicle for several reasons.  I used to buy foreign cars because I had a terrible experience with a little Chevrolet Chevette.  It is the first and only brand new car I ever owned and I held its perfidy against all American made cars.  But I’ve held that grudge long enough.

You’ve never really cussed until you’ve owned a car. Anonymous

I’m not sure if I can love a car whose name is blatantly misspelled.  I like the Cruze.  I’m not nuts about the name.  I’m surprised at what I can overlook at the right price.  That’s probably why I’ve had a long and checkered relationship career.

I’ll list Mitzi Mazda for a couple of weeks, and if she isn’t able to snooker some sucker into buying her, I’ll trade her in.  Since I’ll be driving Bob’s fishing truck which has no working A/C, I am pretty sure I’ll be pushing it to last 2 weeks.

About texasgaga

I am a mom, a grandmom (Gaga to my 2nd oldest grand-child), a sister, a friend, a construction estimator, a homeowner, an active member of a 12 step recovery group, an artist, a reader, a survivor, a do it yourself wannabe, a laugher
This entry was posted in Cars, Corpus Christi, Driving, Humor, Texas and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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