March 30, 2016--Our Old Passat

I received more questions about which car we finally bought than about all my political musings.

After spending nearly two full weeks visiting a dozen showrooms and test driving everything from basic Chevrolets to "loaded" Mercedes, we decided to keep our old VW Passat.

And are feeling very good about it.

We came close to selecting a Maine-compatible Volvo or a South-Florida-sporty Benz E350; but just as we were about to close the deal, backed out and reembraced our old VW.

Yes, reembraced.

As we pulled our chairs closer to the salesman's desk and I searched for my reading glasses, Rona and I looked at each other and began softly to cry.

"We drove your mother in this car," Rona said through tears. "Including to her last Chinese meal. There's been so much loss this year. I'm not ready to lose our old car too. It is so full of memories."

"I was having similar feelings," I said, looking toward the salesman who I assumed has seen it all. "Also, how we used it so many evenings driving friends to dinner. I limited myself to half a glass of wine and designated myself the designated driver. And now . . ."

"I know what you mean. And who you mean. And since they are now struggling with such serious health issues . . ."

". . . it's unlikely that the four of us will ever agin be able to have dinner together."

We sat silently for a moment, avoiding eye contact, and then Rona said, "Are we being overly sentimental? I mean, after all, we're talking about a car . . ."

She shrugged, then answered her own question, "We're not. We're not being silly. This car is just too full of  these memories. And even if we're being emotional, what's wrong with that? I mean . . ."

So we decided to keep it but also to take care of some deferred repairs, which we were ignoring in anticipation of trading it in.

We had the transmission fluid replaced and all the lines and filters cleaned so now it runs as smoothly as when it was new. We had a new oil pump installed as it was beginning to leak slowly around the gasket and replaced all four tires so that we again have a remarkably quiet ride.

And while we were at Tire Kingdom waiting for the new tires to be mounted, someone she didn't know offered to pay $500 toward the $800 cost of new brake pads and drums a young woman was told she needed but which she couldn't afford.

A random act of kindness that made all of us realize there are any number of ways to turn gloomy days into happy ones.

Including the Tire Kingdom manager who told us with an off-the-record smile that at 103,000 miles our memory-ladened Passat is just getting started.

August 20, 2013--Midcoast: Mud Splattered

We don't need a new car but it's fun to look around.

Rona the other day was saying that we don't really need our VW Passat station wagon. That it's too big and hard to maneuver in and out of our narrow driveway. What's more, she says, "It's a little boring. Shouldn't we, for the summer at least, have something a little smaller and more fun? Maybe even a convertible?"

Up here in the midcoast of Maine, vehicles of choice are pick-ups, Volvos, and lots of Subaru Outbacks. All well-splattered with mud.

Driving back from our once-a-month car wash, we spotted a rare, sleek BMW ragtop. "Something like that," Rona suggested, pointing and  craning her neck to get a better look at it as it raced up the Bristol Road.

"Really?" I said, "No real Mainer would drive something that fancy. Even the very rich people here drive broken-down pickups. It's not like East Hampton where everyone has a Range Rover or Boca Raton where Bentleys outnumber Chevys."

"And none of those come coated with mud. Every other place in Florida is a car detailer." I knew from this that Rona was only playing with the idea of getting something spiffy to drive that would make us stand out and alienate us from all our friends.

"I don't think we've seen one Range Rover," Rona said, feeling good about that. "That's one of the reasons we like being here so much--you don't have to drive a Mercedes to show off or fit in."

"And I can get away with having only five pairs of pants to wear."

"Actually, four," she corrected me.

Not disputing that, I said, "There's another reason to keep our current car, though after washing it it looks a little inappropriate. I sort of liked the mud."

"What's that?"

"The other day in the New York Times I saw an article about a study, an actual study that compared how rich and lower-income people drive."

"Which concluded?"

"Essentially," I said, "that BMW drivers as compared to people with Fords are much more aggressive and discourteous."

"Why am I not surprised. Show it to me when we get home."

Later, while reading it, Rona quoted from the piece, "'The [study] team watched a four-way-stop intersection [in Los Angeles] over a week, noting how likely drivers were to cut in front of others when it was not their turn to go. In their observation of 274 cars, the researchers found that the more expensive ones were more likely to jump their turns in the four-way rotation.'"

"Didn't they also find," I recalled, "that about 80 percent of the drivers did the right thing?"

"Yes, that's the good news. 'But,'" she read from the article again, quoting the lead researcher, who did a study of cars and pedestrians in crosswalks--in California the law requires cars to yield, "'But you see a huge boost in driver's likelihood to commit infractions in more expensive cars. In our crosswalk study, none of the cars in the beat-up car category drove through the crosswalk.'"

"That settles it," I said, "No BMW for us. I like my VW. Especially when it's all splattered."

"That should be by later this afternoon," Rona said to assure me that we would soon lapse back into inconspicuousness.