Now I have inherited the "red car," and I can't seem find a name for it. My siblings of course suggested choosing some historical figure, but the only moniker that sticks is "My poor little car." This vehicle is a champ, but it has surely seen better days. It did turn twenty years old this year, after all! Toyota Corolla engines are fantastically reliable, but no plastic interior parts are meant to last two decades. Here are some of my "poor little car's" battle scars:
- Broken driver's side door handle
- Detached rear view mirror
- Ceiling upholstery that fell off, was held on with bobby pins and plastic picnic knives, and then finally replaced
- Driver's side door paint is corroding
- Left passenger door will only open from the inside
- Front passenger seat belt sticks closed
- Gear shift plastic case has cracked
- Interior light only turns on for driver's door
As much as I love the Red Car, it might be time for a new one. Say, a 1998 Corolla that actually has air bags, power door locks, and anti-lock brakes. I did some shopping around over break, and will keep checking Autotrader.com.
My Dad jokes that cars can tell when you are thinking of replacing them. My Poor Little Car seems to be doing that. Just before I drove back to school, Dad and I found a gash in one of the front tires. There went my afternoon and $200 to buy new treads. Hey Little Car, I still love you! Didn't I wax you lovingly before you came to school with me? Didn't I decorate you with window decals from the finest Virginia public college? Heck, I even bought you a new starter in September! Even if we go our seperate ways, I'll still be loyal to your family.