The Story of My Car

In 1993 I was starting my senior year of college and like everybody else in my year, I had no idea what the heck I was going to do after graduation. I chose to go to college 1,000 miles away from the rest of my family and had made do for more than 3 years without a vehicle. That was all very well as a college student but it wasn’t likely to work too well for me after that.

My parents blew my mind at Christmas and got me a car. It was one of those box in a box in a smaller box routines and it was starting to get on my nerves because I’d asked for nothing but clothes–specifically sweaters–for Christmas and had so far netted a book, a cd and some underwear. Everyone else had gotten their usual haul and I was very confused by my seeming absence of gifts. It did not ever in a million, trillion years occur to me that my parents would, or could, manage something like a car for me and I would never, ever have asked for one.

And yet, there it was. And it was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen.

I was supposed to have eventually assumed the payments on the car but was never able to get on my feet financially and by the time it was all said and done my folks had paid off the car. I feel a little bit bad about that to this day, especially considering that while they helped both of my sisters out with their first vehicle, neither of them was ever quite so lucky–my parents had learned.

Anyway. My car. It is a 1992 Saturn SL1. It is now 12 years old. In those 12 years it has gone through about 8 batteries, two side-view mirrors, two sets of floor mats, a headliner, three alternators, two cooling fans, a clutch, and an entire brake system, an electric seat belt motor, an odometer, and is on it’s third set of tires. The two big ticket expenses were the brakes and the clutch. The odometer has been busted since 1999, at which point it had 73,000 miles on it. My right-front stereo speaker is blown.

My car has been pooped in, puked in, slept in, made out in, driven drunk, driven sleepy, driven through a salt-water flood, backed into by a 15′ truck, rear-ended by at least 10 people, transported dogs, cats, children and all but one person I’ve dated in my lifetime (which tells you how exciting high school was for me); it’s been patriotic, revolutionary, uninsured, illegal, ticketed, towed, vandalized and ant infested. Every single piece of plastic in the whole thing is cracked, broken or falling off.

And it is still the most perfect thing I’ve ever owned.

In a typical year my car costs me about $400 in repairs. $400. That is one car note for many people.

It’s name is Jeanette. After Jeanette Winterson, author of the novel I was studying at the time in preparation for my comprehensive exams. People told me I was weird for naming a car with a standard transmission after a woman. It does have that stick, you know. If you’ve read the book it makes perfect sense in a warped kinda way and I think it suits my car just fine.

There was no major point to this entry. I’ve just been thinking about my car a lot today, starting with an e-mail exchange I had this morning with an old friend and then the Friday Five questions were all about cars. I just got sorta awed all over again by this quirky little Saturn, which has served me so well over the years. It’s not sexy, nor is it especially sporty, but it’s relatively safe, it’s paid for and when the light hits it from a certain angle I frequently think it’s still one of the best looking sedans on the road today.

I have no idea how much more time we have together but I intend to drive it until it won’t go anymore.

I don’t really know what will happen then. It’s not like I can frame it and hang it on the wall. And yet, the thought of not having it bugs me a little. It’s like when a pet dies and you can’t bear to get a new one for a good while afterwards. I might have to buy a scooter to help me transition.

I’ll eventually replace it. If I were rich I’d buy this. Since I’m not I will almost certainly buy another Saturn. Though a part of me worries that I’m bound to be woefully disappointed trying to duplicate this amazing experience.