A couple of years ago, the old beast took to leaking oil. The cost to repair it would be high, and it was not necessary to repair it. My mechanic said "keep oil in it and it will be fine," so I bought a big box of oil at Costco, and have been on a vigil, keeping that oil "topped off."
It was a comfortable car, it was paid for, but I was starting to think about making a change. I decided about a year ago that I would replace the old beast at some point soon. I didn't feel good about taking it on long drives, and that was increasingly becoming a part of my life.
Because the care is spacious, I wanted to have it until I cleared out my old storage unit. As you may know, less than a month ago, that task was complete, so I "set the clock" for early 2019, after the holiday season, when I would set out to replace it.
The old Subaru had other plans.
Last weekend, I went to the house of some friends, zipping over the mountain on Highway 17 between Silicon Valley and Santa Cruz. The old beast was running great both down and back, until about a mile from home, it started to stall. I fought it from the Lawrence Expressway to a nearby parking lot, and called AAA. I told the driver the symptoms, and he opened the hood pulled the oil dipstick. "Looks like a blown head gasket." I'd never seen the outcome of one before, but based on what I knew, and the funky looking liquid where oil once been, indeed this looked to be the case. I had the old beast towed to a trusted local garage, where the diagnosis was confirmed.
The cost of repair would be more than the car was worth.
Cars are inanimate objects. Steel and glass and plastic and leather and fabric, pieced together in a factory. But I bond with my cars. In a way, they become an extension of me. I'm a person that loves to drive, and I've spent countless hours on the road. Long haul, short haul, intermediate haul, I love to drive.
This car was there for me in some tough times, and has seen me through a few big changes.
The cars I've owned since I left Idaho in 1980 have all been practical choices. The right tool for the right job. Cost vs function vs need vs what's available. The Subaru was an extension of that, but big bonus points, it was fun to drive. It had dual sunroofs, which I loved. But I also had an idea of what I would like to be driving in mind.
So it was bittersweet, when I cleared out the items that remained in the car. I put the keys in the ignition, and started the car at the garage's parking lot, and limped the old beast out to the road, so that the guy who would haul it away could do his job, then got in my rented car and returned to work.
to be continued...
