Recently, I had to retire my beloved old car, Svetlana or Svetty for short. She was a 1993 Volvo 940, so while not one of the sexier, i.e. turbo-charged, of the bunch she got me around for over 14 years. People love their Turbos, and for good reason- my gal was equipped with a 4-cylinder engine to carry her 4,000-ish pound body, which translated to an underwhelming acceleration up long inclines, but smooth and comfortable coasting on freeways, once she got up to speed. I could get her going quite fast, considering- close to 100 MPH, and she easily handled the long stretches of 70-mph roads spanning much of the desert and rural areas. To be honest, I'm a bit of a cautious driver and have been for a long time, though the accident that caused me to lose Svetty has only increased that trepidation I've felt since.
Given that the average age of the cars on American roads is about 11 years, and most people only keep their cars for an average of about 6 years, I'd gone well above and beyond that with my old gal. She kept driving, even past 200,000 miles, and she was comfortable. I drove her throughout college, and when I traveled to Japan my family kept the car running so that I could drive her upon returning- a nice familiarity after some reverse-culture shock and the challenges of readjusting to life in the US of A. She'd driven from Vegas to Seattle, then back up North, along with many other shorter road trips throughout the nearby regions. I'd gotten a lot of work done on her to keep her going, too: replaced the transmission, had an after-market stereo system with Bluetooth and new speakers installed, replaced the fuel pump, her starter, multiple batteries, radiators, countless hoses, wires, lights, and more. These things happen, and general maintenance is always going to be required to keep an older vehicle moving, but she sure did, up until she didn't.
And really, even after the accident, she would start and drive- but the battery had been cracked and was leaking battery acid all over, so I was worried about the potential for electrical fires or other issues arising. She probably could have been saved, had I the knowledge or skills needed to do the bodywork, or the money available to pay someone else for it. Alas, I lack the skills and the funds, and as much as I love the old girl (and still do), the accident was really traumatic for me and I wasn't sure I'd ever feel quite the same driving her, even if I did sink in the cost of the extensive repairs and had her thoroughly rebuilt. I opted to let her go, with much grief and extensive mourning. Not only was I losing a reliable companion of over a decade, but it had been just as long since I'd entered the intimidating and frustrating world of car-buying. Maybe it's less frustrating for people with excellent credit and cushy bank accounts, but in my initial search I spent over $500 on getting different cars inspected only to learn the mechanic would advise against committing to any of them. I found a 1981 Volvo 242 or so that was absolutely adorable, but it had its own cast of challenges given its age and condition. It took a couple of months of searching and looking into different financing options before we finally landed on my new ride, who is similar to Svetty in being of European make, blocky, and white, so the familiarity helps ease the transition pains. As much as I adored my Svetty, there are things to be said for the advancements of technology over the last 26 or so years, like additional airbags, inbuilt Bluetooth, anti-lock brakes, and other safety features.
Even so, I'm going to miss the old gal. She got me where I needed to go, more often than not, for many, many years. Despite all the changes life throws at us in the course of 14 years, she remained a stalwart and steadfast friend. Even in her final moments, she kept me safe and shielded from the force of a Toyota Sienna trying to coexist in the same space as me, allowing me to walk away unharmed, and for that I will be forever grateful.
You're a good girl, Svetty.
Thanks for everything.
💖
XOXO,
NAU
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