Running out of time? No way, still in her prime

The still morning spring air is interrupted  abruptly by an obnoxious, deafening roar.

Elementary students lined up for class all turn their heads together to see what is headed their way. Is it a random thunderstorm? The apocalypse, perhaps?

They’re probably more than a little disappointed when they see that the source of the noise is only a small grey station wagon – albeit a classic – pulling into the school lot for a drop-off. I hop out, unbuckle Finn from his car seat, and barely have time for a goodbye hug as he hurriedly makes his way to the kindergarten line, anxious to put as much distance between him and the Vibe as possible.

Can’t say I blame him, but it’s still pretty funny. I didn’t think it was possible to embarrass a borderline five-year-old, but it seems as though I’ve been able to succeed slightly ahead of schedule.

Last week my car was on the fritz again, suffering a fractured exhaust pipe that quickly altered the Vibe’s sound from the likes of a modified sewing machine to somewhere in the realm of a modified tractor making its way to the starting line for a pull heat at the fair. It got even louder after the pipe fell off completely while I was backing out of my driveway – ironically enough on my way to a friend’s to wire the dragging apparatus in place long enough so I could get my vessel in to see the surgeon a couple days later. With a final clunk and clatter the pipe dropped off into the street, with me sheepishly chuckling as I pulled back into the driveway, the Vibe roaring even more triumphantly. Another task complete with zero labour involved.

Finn takes on a funny tone of voice when he’s not sure about something or perhaps slightly nervous about something coming up. The night before I dropped him at school as I described above, he told me in that slightly elevated tone, ‘I’m not sure what my friends are going to think about your noisy car, Dad…’ Point taken, Finn. But in fairness getting dropped off in a ‘noisy car’ will only be the first in a long list of embarrassing things I will no doubt subject him and his sister to in the coming years. My old man was one of the all-time greats in this field, and I look forward to carrying on the tradition. (Insert evil, slightly maniacal laughter here.)

I’ve of course written about my ‘seasoned vessel’ previously and the inner struggle I have every time I’m forced to take it in for some semi-significant maintenance, which is typically once every year or two. The Vibe is nearly 17 now, but the body still looks surprisingly decent and the engine runs like a top. She’s only about 8,000 km away from the promised land of 300,000; I feel like I owe her at least that much before even considering changing vehicles. We’ve been driving partners for over a decade, and it’s going to be very hard to let go.

It’s also hard to say what will be the final catalyst for me moving on from the Vibe, but I reckon it would have to be fairly major to make that final decision that would truly mark the end of an era. An exhaust replacement still seems relatively minor in the interim opposed to the alternative of attempting to wrangle a newer vehicle that seem to be in short supply these days, let alone obtaining one as fuel-efficient as the Vibe in a time when you have to consider taking out a small loan just to fill up at the pump.

My car isn’t overly fast, isn’t overly pretty, and at the time I write this, certainly isn’t overly quiet. It has been to the Atlantic Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico and everywhere in between, and she has some stories to tell. If I have it my way, the Vibe will add a few more chapters before her time is done.

Just don’t follow me too closely. There’s no telling what may fly off her next with minimal notice.

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight.

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This is a bi-weekly opinion column; for question or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.

Interim Editor