A test drive (not) too far

The time has come for me to replace the Almighty Honda. This is not something I want to do. I dread all aspects of it. Even as I write this, I’m doing so in darkness and out of earshot of my car (ya know, just in case it overhears). I think it would be easier to replace The Wife than replace the car, but then again I’ve had the car longer than The Wife (it has seniority). Despite my reservations, the truth is I’m driving a car that’s twice as old as my students and it’s just time for a change.

Reasons for change? Well, did I mention I’m driving a car twice as old as my students? This would be fine if my students were younger than five or older than 25. Anything else in-between means I’m driving an old car. Not a classic. Just old. Kind of like that lame age for Grownups between 35 and 55 when you’re expected to behave responsibly (reckless fun by youngsters is considered “youthful indiscretion;” reckless fun by seniors is “too old to know any better”).

I’ve also noticed I’ve been getting pulled over more often. Not for moving violations–just “checking up on the driver” stops cops sometimes make (sure, they hide it under the guise of “your windows are tinted” or “you’re missing a front license plate”–but I know what it’s really about. If they really were concerned I wouldn’t be getting “just a warning”). Even when I’m not getting rolled, I see cops running my plates. It’s like I’m a magnetic for trouble. It’d be one thing if I was driving a hot rod–but a stock Civic that doesn’t top 70 really shouldn’t warrant that much attention (the car runs fine–it’s the driver who won’t top 70). Maybe it’s because only hoodlums or teenagers drive a car as old as mine. Or maybe someone who fits my description keeps stealing diapers from URS–who knows?

My car doesn’t have a place for me to put my cell phone–probably because it was built before people had cell phones. MP3 jack? Not unless you include the hack job I did hooking an external source up to the speakers. The cup holders in my car aren’t big enough for my drinks. I don’t know if people didn’t drink anything large than a soda can back in the 90s or if it’s just because Asian people are used to small things. Whatever the case, I can’t order a drink larger than a small unless I plan on holding it (one hand on the wheel, one hand on the stick, and one hand on the drink). Hell, my car didn’t even have a clock until I bought one off eBay and installed it.

Reasons such as these are why I have decided it’s time to modernize. You just reach a point in life when you know it’s time to move on. To be honest, this isn’t the first Almighty Honda. My car’s given name is Almighty Honda III. The first Almighty Honda met a tragic death thanks to a speeding teenager on a wet road. The second Almighty Honda was a grand machine. There was no need to replace it; I purchased its successor because I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse. I kept the Almighty Honda II and the Almighty Honda III together for about two years. I remember I would pick which car I was going to drive the same way a woman tries to decide which shoes to wear. The only reason I sold the Almighty Honda II was because there was a wedding in my future and my bride insisted that she get a parking space (apparently it’s unladylike to jaywalk in the rain).

Previous car purchases were a breeze, but I’m struggling this time. I think it’s because the dillwads over at Honda decided to stop selling Civic hatchbacks in North America. I’ve looked into it: I can try an import one from Europe. But given the current cost of (boat) gas, it’s just not worth it. So unless I’m willing to buy a car built last century, I need to move on from the norm. For the first time in my entire driving life, I have no choice but to purchase a car that isn’t a hatchback.

Angry side note: what the hell is wrong with this country? People complain about the price of gas, but refuse to embrace small, economical vehicles. Sure, there’s the Mini Cooper and the Smart Car–but those are just gimmicks. The modern Honda Civic is huge compared to its forefathers. Take five minutes to look at the car’s generation history on Wikipedia. Modern Civics are much larger than those made in the 90s, 80s, 70s, etc. Same goes for Toyota cars, too. The cars keep getting bigger and bigger. Why? I hate driving a large car. I don’t need extra space. I just want a small, light car that gets good gas mileage and is easy to park. Am I the only one? There’s a reason cars are getting bigger: it’s what people want. Consumers speak with their wallets. If people wanted smaller cars, car companies would be making them. I’m so sick of hearing people complain about the price of gas while shunning vehicles that are fuel-efficient. Every Honda I’ve owned got significantly better gas mileage than the supposed economical vehicles today. Side note over.

Oops, I did it again. I set out to tell a story and gave so much exposition that I’m exhausted by the time I’ve reached the actually story.

The concept of a motivated seller isn’t one I come across too often on Craigslist (then again, we are talking about Craigslist people). I made an appointment to see a car about a month ago and the seller wasn’t home. Some sellers won’t return my call, but will repost the ad. On multiple occasions I’ve come across sellers who post ads and show the car, but won’t be ready to sell it until next month “because (they) still need the car.” Why waste your time? And mine?

I went to see a car recently. I made an appointment to be there at 6:30. Unfortunately, he wasn’t home at 6:30. He said he would be there at 7:15. I am the master of underestimating how long it’ll take me to get somewhere–7:15 meant 7:30. Instead of waiting around, I went to McDonalds and bought a Dr. Pepper. “Even if I don’t buy it, he still owes me a buck,” I quipped. At 7:30 I checked in. At 7:45 he was home. By the time I saw the car, it was about almost a 90-minute movie later than our appointment (I suppose I could have just said 90 minutes after our appointment).

The car itself was unremarkable. It had its pros and its cons. I knew I wasn’t going to buy it after a visual inspection (it had fluid leaks of some sort and the alignment was off), but I wanted to take it for a drive anyway (I figured he owed me a test drive after making me wait long enough to see an animated Disney movie–aha!–a much better way to squeeze in that analogy). He gave me the keys and offered a test route. Since he was busy making dinner or talking on the phone, he was going to stay home instead of going out with his car. Seems a little foolish to hand over your car keys to a total stranger–I guess I looked honest enough to trust.

I pulled out of his driveway and got no more than 30 seconds away from his house when I noticed the gas gauge indicated fuel was needed. It’s standard operating procedure to sell a vehicle with as little fuel as possible, so the warning light didn’t bother me because I figured he knows his car better than I (heck, The Wife drives around with the warning light on for a couple days; then again, she did drive around with the Check Engine Light on for a month…).

…at least that’s the thought I would have had if the car didn’t immediately start puttering. I wasn’t even a mile into my test drive but didn’t want to take any chances. The puttering grew more violent (and discouraging), so I did a u-turn and that’s when the car started to die. Not wanting to coast on a two-ton brick, I opted to pull over…and the car completely died.

I, personally, have never run out of gas. I think it takes a fool to run out of gas in SoCal with a gas station being on every corner. That being said, I have fools as friends and have witness a car running out of gas before. What happened was similar to those experiences. I’m not going to say the car I was driving ran out of gas because I was only in the car for two minutes. Heck, I’ll give the seller the benefit of the doubt–maybe it died because it was a piece of junk.

I hiked back to his house. My walk turned out to be longer than the test drive. I suppose if anyone asks, when I retell this story I’ll say I was test driving my shoes. I thought about what I was going to tell the seller. Not only was I not going to buy his car–I left it parked on the street about a half-mile from his hour. This was not a conversation I was looking forward to because I had no idea how he was going to take it (uh, sorry sir. I was test driving your car and now it no longer works). Plus, should I offer to help him push his car back home? I suppose it would have been the polite thing to do. But then again, the polite thing to do would have been to give me enough fuel so I could have a test drive that lasted longer than a mile. Heck, even if I bought the car without driving it, I didn’t have enough petro to make it to the closest gas station.

Despite my reservations, he was a surprisingly good sport–almost too good of a sport. He didn’t at all seem surprised that the car ran out of gas. He just asked where it was an offered to get his gas can (excellent observation by The Wife: how often does he run out of fuel that he needs to keep a gas can in his garage? This is SoCal–I know he doesn’t have a riding mower). He apologized, adding “I knew you were waiting so I didn’t have time to stop for gas.” Well, at least he felt guilty about making me wait…

So this car turned out to be a bust. I’m finding this car search to be more difficult than the previous ones. I think people don’t take care of their cars as well as they use to. Or maybe this is just the product of riffraff invading our society and making this country worse . Or maybe this is just my fault for looking at something other than the Almighty Honda. Whatever be the case, I’m gonna keep looking and keep driving…

…assuming there’s fuel in the tank.