car talk

First, for the socks folks, the heel is turned and the long slog toward the toe has begun. If I say much more I think I'll jinx the sock, so... hold tight for photos later.

Last week a little light illuminated on the dashboard of our 1994 Bravada, which we call Conan the Destroyer. We are Conan's third owners, and we acquired this behemoth almost five years ago. It's given us good service, but has had three breakdowns that have required over a thousand dollars' outlay to fix. Every time, I've thought to myself, "yeah, but it's cheaper than a car payment, higher registration, higher insurance, so shut up and put up." Well, when that little light went on last week it meant that we're in for a seventeen-hundred-dollar brake computer. The amount of money it takes to keep Conan running has outpaced its overall worth as well as what it would take to purchase a new vehicle. With a heavy sigh, the Emperor and I began to figure out what to do next. Buy used? Buy new? Lease? Car research ensued.

What's complicating this decision is the fact that I'm a third-generation Ford girl. All of my life I've been surrounded by Fords. If I even looked at a foreign car, my father intoned, "Be American, buy American" and between the two of us we've had a pretty interesting string of automobiles. When I was born, my parents brought me home from the hospital in a brand-spanking new 1959 Ford Edsel (black, red interior). When my sister was born they drove a 1963 Mercury Marauder (black, red interior). In my twenties, I drove a 1963 Falcon Ranchero (66B model, automatic transmission). Conan the Bravada is a blip in my life with Fords, but it was convenient and affordable at the time. My first ever new car, purchased by myself for myself, without the help of anybody, is my 1986 Ford Escort.

Here's how I bought "Baby." In Februrary 1986, my then-boyfriend was pestering me to buy a new car. I had my first "real" job and was trying to save up a downpayment as the Ranchero had been consistent in its breakdowns for about a year, and I wanted to be able to get to work on a regular basis. Well, S-- and one of his friends took me down to one of the Ford dealers and we looked around. I sat down with one of the salesmen and asked him how much of a downpayment would I need to pay about $150.00 per month for an Escort? He did the figuring, and handed me the paper. I told him I'd be back when I had two thousand dollars (oh, the heady days when you could get a car for that little!) and he kind of acted like he didn't believe me. But I saved the paper, and saved my money.

In late May, I returned (with my sister) to the dealership, found M-- the salesman, and told him I had the money and showed him the paper. He went and got a book, flipped through it, then looked up. "Is white okay?" he asked. "White's fine. I don't care what color it is, as long as it goes when you want it to go, and stops when you need it to stop." "Sign here." And that's how I bought the car love of my life. Baby had six original miles, a sunroof, and wire wheel covers (which I quickly changed out as they had a penchant for coming off and rolling ahead of me). That car took me to the ends of the earth and back, filled with kids or people or camping gear, and several times kept running when there was no mechanical reason for it to continue. She's had two new engines (one was a mistake) and her odometer reads something close to three hundred thousand miles. And she's still running. The Emperor is a former mechanic, and Baby's just the right size for him to work on, so we're going to restore her. It will be a job, but in our darkest mechanical moments, I promised that car that someday she'd be fixed up again and I mean to keep my promise. After all, the Ford Escort is the Mustang of the new millenium!

I have this daydream that I drive Baby to one of those show-and-shines, park, and crank open the hood. The engine is sparkling clean, and appropriate parts are either chromed or painted Ford Blue. The interior is immaculate. She's been painted her original cream-white, with narrow blue pinstriping that ends in a tiny and graceful celtic knot.

Oh, sorry, was I in an automotive reverie?

Back to today... our research indicates that the best car that we can afford with the best record for reliability, miles per gallon, and safety, is... not a Ford. I can't even afford an American car, period, this go-round! We are looking at a Honda Fit. It's been on the road in the rest of the world since about 2001, but only arrived on these shores last year. In England, it's called the Jazz. We could haul stuff around in it, take other people around in it, and have a lighter footprint. We had hoped to hold out until we could afford a hybrid, or wait until a totally new kind of transportation technology emerged, but Conan has begun the slow crawl toward car Valhalla earlier than we had planned. In case you're wondering, our town, nay, our region has almost no public transportation.

And then, I have this incredible guilt because I'm seriously considering a foreign car. I've been paying attention to the news, where the big American automakers are losing money, outsourcing, etc. I have a real sympathy for people in financial straits (but little for the companies). But recently, on NPR, there was an interview about automobile and fuel efficiency standards and they gave the mike to the guy from one of the Big Three. He said that Americans don't want smaller cars or fuel efficiency.

Well, okay Mr. Car Maker, if Americans don't want smaller cars or fuel efficiency, then why are so many of us buying small Japanese models? Or, watching with glee as the first Smart Cars make their way over the pond? Or, experimenting with used cooking oil in diesel engines? I want to tell the CEO of Ford that if he/she were really using his/her noodle, that company would throw everything they had into an alternative to the internal combustion engine. The first company to come up with something new, sustainable, and smart would not only have the market all to themselves, they'd endear themselves to thinking people everywhere.

But they don't get it, those automobile manufacturers. They'd just throw my letter on the pile marked "cranks." All of that talk about American ingenuity is just so much palaver now. For me, the decision comes down to this: am I going to be a "good" American, or a "good" global citizen? Am I going to crucify my bank account in order to make a superficial patriotic gesture?

Not this girl. I'm also going to write that letter to Ford. Just in case.