David Heiller
Sometimes it’s nice to have a little good luck. I’m speaking about an incident last week
with my car.
The car,
a 1996 Ford Taurus, is a pure beater. Two doors don’t work, and the dash board
has more warning lights flashing than an F-15. It has plenty of little dents,
and a few big ones.
I’m
almost embarrassed to drive it. But not quite. It still drives all right. The
mileage is decent. And it’s paid for!
The car
has seen just under 263,000 miles of action, first in Pine County, now in hill
country. Nothing major has ever gone wrong with it, which I find amazing. That’s
a testament to how much better cars are made these days.
The car
almost suffered a fatal blow about six years ago, when I hit a deer with it head
on. The impact broke the windshield, fractured the frame in front, and deployed
the air bags. No one was hurt, except for the deer, but the repair estimate was
$3,600. That was more than the car was worth, so the insurance company totaled
the car, paid us the money, and towed it away.
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| This is just like the "Mauve-mobile" (We aren't the sort that takes photos of our cars.) We got a good deal on her partially because of the color. David took a little heat for the color, but that kind of thing never bothered him. |
But
about a week later, I got to thinking about the Mauve Mobile, as we had taken
to calling the car based on its distinctive color. I wondered if I couldn’t
still drive it. The body shop that had estimated the repairs said yes, the
cracked frame would hold up. “Fix the windshield, stuff the parachutes back
into the dash, you got yerself a car?”
So I
bought the car back for one fourth of the settlement. The catch was I could not
resell the vehicle because the air bags had been deployed. Fine with me. A
little duct tape goes a long way.
Since
then the Mauve Mobile has kept plugging away. Until last week. I was almost
home on Tuesday night when the car came to a shuddering stop. It wouldn’t turn
over. “Hmm. Gas gauge is on full. Plenty of oil, antifreeze is OK?’ But it
would not start.
I towed
it to Ron Cordes’ shop that night. He called the next morning with the bad
news: “Looks like the fuel pump, Dave:’ Estimated cost, $375. Ouch!
So it
was debate time. That’s never an easy one to figure out: How much money do you
stick into an old car?
We
finally told Ron to fix it. My loyalty to the old beater is akin to our ancient
dog, MacKenzie. They have both been loyal friends.
Ron said he would
order the part and install it on Thursday. That night I stopped in to pick it
up.
Ron had a slight twinkle in his eye—a Cordes kind of look you might say—when I
arrived. Then he told me the tale, also in a Cordes kind of way, which means he’ll
get to the point if you just hold tight.
The car
wasn’t getting gas, but Ron said he thought he had heard the fuel pump engage when
he first tried it. No, it must have been the antennae going up. Then he and a
helper heard the same thing the next morning. But no gas: Hmm.
Wait a
minute. They ran a stick into the tank. Dry. The old car had run out of gas,
both literally and figuratively.
Ron
sloshed in a little Saudi Soup and checked the fuel pump again. Gas shot out.
It worked great. He drove it to Kwik Trip, put in $10 worth of gas, charged me
another $10 for his time and trouble, and that was that, thank you very much.
There wasn’t even a restocking fee for the fuel pump.
“The
fuel gauge is stuck on full, but for $375 I figured you could live with that,
Ron said. He was right.
I left
Ron’s feeling very grateful to have such a thorough mechanic. I felt as if I
had just made $365. Maybe the Mauve Mobile thought so too.
A little luck never
hurts anyone.
