It looks like it might be time to buy a new vehicle. David and I are not people who buy new or used vehicles often. It usually is an emergency situation for us to buy another vehicle.
David’s truck is 19 years old with 300,000 miles on it. The emergency precipitating that purchase was a teenage son wrecking David’s previous car. Actually three times we have been blessed to have to buy another vehicle because of teenage boys. Thank goodness they eventually grew up and could wreck their own cars.
My van has about 240,000 miles on it. It drives well as long as we aren’t on a highway for a long period of time. So trips to the next town over are OK, but Florida or the Grand Canyon are out.
This is weird, but when we do drive on the highway at a high rate of speed for very long, such as an hour, strange lights on the dashboard come on warning us our vehicle stabilization and tracking are annoyed. Then the car starts shaking enough to scare you to death, and you are forced to pull over.
Once you restart the van, the shaking stops until another hour passes. We have been told this is called “limp mode” and is designed to scare you enough to pull over, even though nothing is essentially wrong.
And it can’t be fixed. And I cannot express in English the explanation I have heard from the guys who explain it to me. I can only smile and nod my head as if I understand. I just want to drive someplace to go on another cruise at some distant post-COVID-19 time.
So I am going to start looking for another vehicle. I’ve never had a new car in my life and don’t imagine I’ll be starting now. And I’m never excited about a high car payment.
When I searched for my present van, I had three requirements: I wanted a CD player, so you know how old my van is. I wanted lights that went off by themselves to save me from calling AAA so often to jump my battery. And I didn’t want power doors since those were the only trouble I ever had with my last van.
I found exactly what I needed, even though it is silver and it looks like a thousand other silver vans in a parking lot.
Now it is time to put together a new list. I’m not even sure cars come with CD players anymore, which is sad since I have a large Kenny Rogers and Mormon Tabernacle Choir collection of CDs. Too bad he died before singing with them. It would have been the perfect CD.
I think something called “Bluetooth” has replaced the CD players. All I know about that is that I always turn it off in my phone settings and when my daughter Mary Susan is using Bluetooth to call me, I always lose her. Apparently it requires a capital letter too because autocorrect keeps correcting my little “b.”
So I might have to learn something new. I’ll put it off as long as possible.
I would also like to laugh at the universe and have power doors back. Surely, I couldn’t be so unlucky I would get another set of bad power doors. I just get so tired of explaining to people that they have to really push the doors hard to get them to close because they aren’t power.
Then they look at me like the poor relation at the family reunion.
I also want a car that isn’t silver or anything close to silver. My best colors to wear are red, pink and white, although one doesn’t see many pink cars on the road. I definitely can’t do green and I’ve never been a blue person.
I might consider something other than a van too, but not too small. I learned to drive in a station wagon and drove two different 15-passenger vans, so I like space.
That’s all — a nice-colored maybe or maybe not van with a way to play Kenny Rogers, may God rest his soul, and some cooperative power doors.
A drink holder that isn’t stuck in the closed position might also be nice, as well as no dents in the side. And my almost 89-year-old mother has to be able to get in it to go to doctors’ appointments. And I don’t need Brunswick stew stains in the carpet in the back.
See, it’s getting complicated. Maybe I should just chug along with what I have for a while.
Elzey is a freelance writer for the Register & Bee. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or 434-791-7991.