Not many people own the same car for sixteen-plus years. Not many cars start with a snarl and make it from point A to point Z and back again, without a whimper, from day one until that dreaded flatbed truck latches onto her one last time. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a tad, there were a few stops for repairs along the way but aside from a transmission rebuild, a catalytic converter replacement and eight tires, all my MonteCarlo Z34 ever asked for was gas, oil and water. Dale Earnhardt would've been proud of me. The last car he ever drove was the best car I ever owned.
The last two years were just extra fun, especially for a do-it-yourself McGyver, like me. The ageing vehicle's computer failed and it would not communicate with the DMV's computer in Albany when I went for the yearly inspection. Instead of inspecting the car the old fashioned way, by eye and hand (isn't that what inspect means?) the state insisted that I replace the computer, at quite a dear price, or all subsequent inspections would fail, whether or not the vehicle was in perfect condition. Well, I'm an old anarchist from the '60s and that order was not going to fly. Yeah, I'm an outlaw! Come and get me! They can't get me! Thanks to PhotoShop and my excellent and lawful driving skills, my inspection sticker was handmade from 2014 until my registration came due in 2016. Then, the gig was up. If I were stopped and my registration checked, well, that would've meant the hoosegow for me. I had to throw in the towel. When my mechanic, Larry, (the best ever) told me that the repairs weren't worth it, I called Kars4Kids and the Black Attack made the supreme sacrifice. On Thursday, June 23rd, 2016, the wrecker drove her off.
Yeah, I cried; you got a problem with that?
"Swing low sweet chariot!"