I feel like Woody Harrelson in zombieland, but instead of the futile search for a twinkie, it’s the futile search for fucking manual transmission cars to test drive this weekend. Seriously, I’ve literally found only one car out of the five candidates I’d like to test out, and that’s between many dealerships. Jesus christ, you’d think a city with 4 million black people would have more stick shifts, but I guess they’re all already bought and/or stolen by now.
Tag: cars
Car bitching, #7,201
For the record, I officially regret purchasing my 2003 Mazda6. For the record, I wish I plunked down the $1,500 last year, and replaced the O2 sensor on my prior SR20 Sentra, and probably kept driving it for at least another 20,000 miles, without any car payments, to this point. But I was cash-strapped and foolish back then. And compared to now, when I’m still cash-strapped, but feeling more foolish, and factually handcuffed to the remainder of my car loan that I will have the uphill battle in trying to eliminate before seeking out a new car.
If all goes well, this weekend, I’ll test drive a car, that isn’t too expensive, has anywhere from 50-62% of the power output of the lemon, but 25% better fuel economy, and isn’t, well, the lemon. And then hopefully sooner, rather than later, I’ll sign my balls away for 60 months, but at least have a brand new car, that I won’t have to fret and worry about, for at least one full year, hopefully.
But for the record, the acquisition of the lemon, certainly goes up on the list as one of the biggest mistakes of my life, and I’m not just being dramatic. I consider it an invaluable lesson learned – that mechanics are incompetent, CarFaxes are bullshit, and strange haji Middle-Eastern rock-lot dealers have the power of the genie’s lamp to make any car seem better than it really is for at least a few months, before it turns back into putrid garbage. For the record, I wish I plunked down the money to fix my old car, and kept it, or at least used it then, to have acquired a brand new, reliable car, that I’d have already paid 15 months of my car loan off by now, instead of the lemon.
I don’t often have many regrets, but damn is this certainly one of the biggest.
$1,500
fuck it, i’m getting a new car.
i still owe like 22 months on the lemon, but honestly, even if they lump that shit into a new car, i’m sure i’d have better luck with a horse-drawn buggy over this piece of shit.
Here we go again
Yesterday, right as I rolled into Zombieland, the odometer on the lemon struck 100,000. This is now the third car I’ve now pushed over the 100,000 mile plateau. Granted only one of them was genuinely my own 100,000 (and 200,000) miles, but for what it’s worth, my current car, the lemon, is now officially considered worthless, as many cars are seen as damaged goods once they start utilizing the sixth digit.
And in my case, as evidenced by the ominously glowing check engine light that I’m flicking off, the lemon actually is damaged goods at this point. Later on today, I’m taking my car into, of all places, the stealership, because I’m tired of local, independent mechanics not knowing what to do with my car, and I’m blindly putting faith in the notion that Mazda mechanics that work at a Mazda dealership’s service shops, might actually know what to do with my Mazda. To add to the irony of the whole situation, I went and got the diagnostic code pulled from an AutoZone, which came out to be P0421 – in Mazda-speak it means catalytic converter problem, or something breathing related, as it pertains to the engine. To which the added irony is that such symptoms was what my old car’s check engine light was coming up as.
Either way, congraturation to me, for driving around yet another car with a billion miles on it again. As great as it would be for this one to also reach another 100,000 miles, I sure as shit wouldn’t bank on it.
Yet more car irony
Last year, I exhibited a bit of urgency in selling my old car and acquiring what I’m driving now, because of time-sensitive nature of the necessity of emissions testing and car tag renewals. I had a check engine light on in my old Sentra that was O2 sensor-related; both circumstances which would have easily led to failing any emissions test, that would have necessitated an expensive repair of the O2 sensor, for a car on its last legs. So in a way, it was a persistent check engine light that ultimately resulted in the decision to get a new car.
Today, coming home from the airport in the lemon, the check engine light came on while I was driving through a Dunkin’ Donuts for some coffee. Yippee.
I’m hoping it’s just a false alarm from god-knows-what reasoning, and that it’ll be gone the next time I start up my car, but I really highly fucking doubt it. And the best part is that I still have two years left to pay on this piece of shit, so no escape clause available this time around. Just can’t win with the lemon, apparently.
God’s car
Apparently, God drives a Chevy Cavalier.
In other amusement brought on by automobiles, on my way home from work the other day, I was mildly irritated when everyone on the road slammed their brakes, bringing traffic to a dangerously instantaneous crawl.
It was caused by a Ford Festiva passing an overly encumbered (full of fat fucks) Lincoln Towncar. Hahahahaha.
Brogging of the mundane
Burglary update
I finally managed to get a hold of the Fulton County prosecutor aide in regards to the thugs that tried to rob my home back in October. Honestly, given the lack of effort exerted by the county, I figured that I had heard the last of them after the initial arrest of the hoods. I called every number and contact I was given, with no response. In fact, I had to hound this person in order to respond to a letter they had sent to me. Apparently wanted to let me know that their bond pleas have been denied a second time, and one more denial, and then they’re going to actual, court-court. But it’s comforting to know that since their arrest back on October 27th, they’ve been in jail since.