car drama

Not that I don't have enough car stories, but I feel compelled to share the latest and greatest. In my short little driving life I have had two cars, both hand-me-downs from my Dad which translates to cars that my mom said that he had to get rid of but was too in love with so decided that he would play the "I'm so generous look at what I am giving to my daughter" card to convince my mom to let him keep them.

• Car #1, 1984 BMW 318i (white for those that need a color visual)
• Car #2, 1981 Mercedes-Benz 380SL (black, two-door, convertible)

Car #1, The Beamer, got 1 speeding ticket (72 mph in the speed-trap part of I-5 in Hawks Prairie) and was in three ditches in my first 2 years of driving. Only one ditch was my fault. I had tried to do this tricky 3-point turn out near Steamboat Island when I had made a wrong turn. Backed right into the ditch and was saved by someone who knew my Dad, random ... and embarassing. The second time Katie and I were on our way to church and I hit ice and swerved to miss a row of mailboxes. Some guy stopped to help us and was able to push up out and off to church we drove. The third time, and the most disastrous ended The Beamer's life. Katie and I were on our way to school and hit black ice between our driveway and Grammy's. Needless to say we spun around and ended upside down in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. After we landed in the brambles of the ditch I yelled, "Katie, are you alive?" Thank goodness she was, as I was, obviously. Some nice retired fireman pulled out the back triangle window and we climbed our way to safety. The Beamer on the other hand is now in some wrecking yard in Olympia being pieced for whatever it was worth. RIP. Embarassing part of this story was the Tumwater policeman who was first as the scene went to high school with my Dad. How is it that these cars my dad loans to me always are somehow connected to some random Olympia person he knows that show up in my most precarious situations?

Car #2, The Merc, is still in my possession, sadly. It has had a hard life since I became its primary driver and owner. It's first incidence happened when she was pretty new, new to us at least. This car was my Dad's baby, the one that he "gave" to my Mom as her Valentine's Day present ... she didn't like it and wanted it returned, but Dad had gotten such a good deal at the auction she became a permanent member of our family (now I don't think we'll ever be able to rid ourselves of her). Katie, in her young innocence, was in the garage at the old old house and wrote her name in the dust on the trunk. Her little nails actually SCRATCHED her name in to the paint, so "Katie" in little 5 year old handwriting is etched on The Merc's behind. After I totalled The Beamer I was gifted The Merc as my ride. "Be careful," my Dad told me, "She's a classic." And I have been careful! It wasn't my fault that someone rear-ended me when I was exiting the freeway the summer I left for college. Apparently he was "admiring" The Merc and drove right into her! It also wasn't my doing when someone hit and crunched in the rear driver's side panel while I was at the gym. No note, of course. A few weeks later I was parked in a parking garage and someone nicked the other side, yikes, you would think The Merc was a magnet the way cars are attracted to her in such dangerous ways. Thankfully the lady did leave a note. One phone call and three estimates later I got a check for $160, my Dad just let me keep it to pay for school ... we both knew The Merc had fallen from perfection long ago and would never be her "classic" self again. Slowly but surely her health has declined (which must have been what prompted my Dad to finally sign the title over to me). She leaks like the dickens when it rains, has squeaky brakes, intermittent heat and A/C, freezes on both the inside and outside of the windows in the winter, Les Schwab said I need new tires AND wheels, and the doors don't lock. Which leads to my latest car drama ...

Last night The Merc got broken into at my ghetto apartment building. Now, granted that her doors haven't locked for as long as I can remember it was only a matter of time, but still. This incident happened somewhere between 10:30 pm and 4:23 am (when Metro Watch shut my driver's side door). The culprits took my book of car information (registration, insurance info, and receipts for work I've had done over the years) and my basket of nonsense that I keep in the backseat. I'm still trying to remember what all was on there, so far I've remembered the following: bag of gym clothes (including shoes), a hoodie, my black belt and a pair of khakis (left over from my Starbuck's days, a few CDs, a couple magazines/books, and the first scarf that I ever crocheted (probably my favorite). That is all I have remembered so far, but it was kind of a basket of random things that I never had enough arms to be able to carry it all in to the apartment. I called Metro Watch and got the lowdown, filed a police report, and will be going to get a new registration on Friday. Cool, just the kind of thing I like to do on my day off. I also created quite a stir when I accidently kept telling everyone that the title got stolen instead of saying registration. What can I say? I'm not really a knowledgeable car person. I wish they would have just stolen the whole car, but I suppose even a thief knows that The Merc is more trouble than it's worth. My last hope is to check the dumpster when I get home and see if they discarded my treasures there, but if not, I will survive, they obviously needed my warm winter scarves more than I did.

I would say there is more to come, but I hope not. I don't need anymore car drama. I just need a new car, preferably something that is younger than I am (The Beamer was 2 years my senior and The Merc is 5).