She quit on me for the last time this week.
It was inevitable.
When she was in the shop a month ago for reasons I can’t remember, my mechanic said the transmission would be the next thing to go, and soon.
So that’s what happened.
I was driving 78 mph on my way to a meeting on campus when my transmission stopped working. That is an experience I’ve never had before, but it felt like I was suddenly in neutral.
Thankfully I was 1/2 mile away from my exit, so I eased into the break-down lane and then exited.
First stop: coffee. And I texted my mom and my partner: “Hey, I think my transmission just died.”
“Omg. Where are you?”
“Getting coffee at McDonalds.”
I limped to campus at 25 mph because it wouldn’t shift out of second gear, and I called my mechanic.
“The thing you said would happen has happened. I just want to make sure my car is useless.”
“You’re looking at $1,500 in repairs,” he said.
The car isn’t even worth $1,500.
From there, things sped along.
Salvage yard.
“We’ll give you $375 for it.”
“How about $500?”
“$400 and a free tow.”
“We’ve got a deal.”
Rental car.
Car shopping.
Car shopping is a shitty, shitty process.
I’ve been in the market for a couple months now and it sucks. I’ve driven so many different cars, I’ve had dealers sell cars out from under me, I’ve had the bank be like, “We love you! Now we don’t.” And I’ve done my fair share of crying. And saying things like, “Car shopping is a shitty, shitty process.”
Not fun.
Ironically, I’d identified this weekend as the one where I was back in the game after emotionally recovering from the previous episode. This would be THE Weekend For A New Car, so when my transmission died, it wasn’t all that shocking or inconvenient. It just reiterated the fact that “hey, um, in 48 hours you’re getting a new car.”
Joy.
But as things happen in the way they’re supposed to happen, I got on the world wide web and on the advice of my partner, I expanded my search outside the confines of the make and model I’d had my heart set on.
Wouldn’t you know that I found a car on the Internets, I emailed the dealer at 10 -something p.m., and I bought the car the next day.
And a few hours later, I met the salvage car company at my now-defunct car. I didn’t think I’d be sentimental watching them load her up and haul her off. She has left me on the side of the road so many times.
I was staunchly not sad, but then felt very sad. We’ve done a lot together. Six years, 130,000 miles, a handful of states, dozens of road trips. I always said I’d drive her till the wheels fell off. And when the wheels actually did fall off one time, I had them fixed and kept driving her for a couple more years.
The salvage truck driver was brusque in our transaction. Efficient, yes.
“Here’s your check. I’ll take the title. Sign here and here.”
But there was no, “Would you like a last word?” Or “Do you want to touch it one last time?”
“Is that all you need from me?”
“Yep.”
It felt weird leaving her with him in the parking lot.
I quickly recovered.
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