Loosely keeping up with my theme of commentaries on historical vessel tragedies as of late, my fourth instalment on the subject will be of a slightly different variety this week.
Anyone that knows me personally will also no doubt be familiar with my car. It isn’t fast, it isn’t overly pretty, but it has been as a reliable vessel as I’ve ever known.
I inherited my Pontiac Vibe from my late uncle 10 years ago after moving back home from Alberta. Since that time I’ve clocked some serious kilometres, travelling all over Ontario and the U.S. on countless excursions; she has been to the Atlantic Ocean twice and even all the way to the Gulf of Mexico in Louisiana. I’ve put on about 175,000 kilometres, mileage that has seriously declined since the onset of the pandemic. Ironically, our public health emergency the last year and a half no doubt extended my car’s lifespan.
The Vibe has its quirks. From day one, various things have failed on it electrically. First I lost the radio display (a tough one to overcome, especially when the 2006 model was the last one to not have an auxiliary option for outside music devices. Thank goodness for radio presets…). Then it was one of my dome lights. I haven’t had a rear windshield wiper in several years. Both fog lights have been smashed out. The air conditioning is non-existent. Pieces of the undercarriage heat shield have gradually fallen off or been cut away as it has rusted out.
If anything, she’s gotten lighter over her 15 years of service. But the engine still runs like a top.
I can fit a remarkable amount of things in a relatively small car. Fold down the back seats and you’ve got yourself a miniature truck with a cab. I recall one instance after acquiring some items from my sister when I had a full kitchen table set and a dryer in the back among many other items, with room to spare. Upon going through the Tim Hortons drive-thru on the way home with the load, the lady at the window remarked how impressive it was that everything fit in there. I beamed with pride at my family station wagon’s cargo capabilities.
In addition to the electrical losses the Vibe has incurred, the last couple years have seen some larger bills start to add up. Exhaust and brake issues mostly. Its latest protest in her 16th season is an obnoxious, noise-polluting rattle that I’m sure has something to do with more heat shield decline somewhere up inside that my dad and I can’t get at. More expenditures at the shop forthcoming, most definitely.
My strong attachment to the Vibe notwithstanding, there is going to be a breaking point – pun intended – when it comes to how much more money we’re going to put into her. This piece is by no means an obituary for my car, and I believe she definitely still has some good years left.
My plan was always to get to at least 300,000 kilometres. A frustrating aspect to this is that I’ve read my particular model has a digital odometer defect that causes it to seize at 299,999 km. How disappointing and unsatisfying would that be. Although it would make it easier to pull the proverbial wool over a potential buyer’s eyes in terms of ‘maximizing’ its sale cost. I can’t imagine that would be a great deal of money anyway, even though the Vibe’s sentimental value is through the roof.
My car certainly owes me nothing. But the day will be coming soon when I have to make some very hard choices in terms of how much more I owe her.
Perhaps one last cross-country bid for her to see the Pacific Ocean in the not-too-distant future? However, an undertaking like that could potentially sour my memories of the Vibe if it happened to blow up in rural Saskatchewan. I probably still wouldn’t hold it against her.
Thanks for reading and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight.
***
This is a bi-weekly opinion column; for questions or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.