Car Talk 2: Electric Boogaloo

[Here's the second installment of my car ownership history. For Part 1, go here. Or just click through to the next post.]

So I ditched my Taurus and moved to New York. I was there for another year until I ran out of money and moved in with my parents for a while. I got a job and by March 2010 had saved up enough to move out on my own again, but that meant I would need a car--and fast.

The bishop of my parents' ward likes to buy old cars and fix them up. I knew he was trustworthy and would probably give me a good deal, so I gave him a call. The only car he had in working condition was a 1995 Buick Park Avenue (that's right, another make and model from the "least stolen" list I linked to in the last post). I test drove it, and, knowing I couldn't possibly get better financing terms from any dealer or bank, bought it the same day.

In case you're not familiar, Buicks have a reputation as cars that are driven by, well, old geezers. And that's the first thing most people said when they saw my Park Avenue: "That's a grandma car." (Some were at least nice enough to say "grandpa.") But I didn't care. It was still the nicest car I had ever owned.

It was also the biggest. The Park Avenue is a full-size, a big boat of a car. I wasn't used to it at first, and scraped the door backing out of my covered parking spot less than a week after moving out of my parents' house and into the apartment I live in now.

My favorite features of my pimped-out ride: the hydraulic trunk that closed mostly on its own, and the ghost that adjusted the radio volume. (The control was a manual, non-digital knob, but there were also steering wheel controls--so when you used them you could see the volume knob turning. It was awesome.)

I drove it basically incident-free for the first year, with my most serious complaint being its poor gas mileage. But it failed the safety test when I tried to get the registration renewed. For various reasons, I didn't have the cash for any kind of significant repair, so I actually drove around for almost six months with expired plates. By "drove around," I mean occasionally drove to the grocery store or to church--just like a typical Buick driver. Since I work from home, I have less driving needs than most, and that combined with my trepidation about even medium-length trips as the car started to break down resulted in me putting less than 8000 miles on the Park Avenue in the 20-ish months I owned it.

I was awakened early one morning last fall by my downstairs neighbor pounding on our door. They had witnessed a huge RC Willey furniture truck misjudge its girth while turning around in our parking lot and clip my bumper, lifting my car a foot or so off the ground and dropping it back down (that's what I was told, I didn't see any of it). The truck left the scene, which was weird, but they were probably following company protocol, because they came back with a manager while I was out looking at it. Police reports were filed, estimates procured, and yadda yadda yadda, I suddenly had enough money to fix my brakes and get registered, though this incident was not as lucrative for me as the ones detailed in part 1.

In November, though, it began to be a struggle to get my car to start, and there was clearly a problem with the radiator--I'd add two gallons of coolant, and three days later the Buick would come close to overheating after driving just three or four miles. Then one day it wouldn't start at all, but my neighbor happened to be outside at that time and gave me a jump. The next day I drove to Mimi's Cafe for my work Christmas party, and upon leaving it again wouldn't start--and this time the jump didn't help. I went back the next day and tried again, but still no luck.

A few days later I went back with my dad to try jumping it one more time. I had already talked to the Mimi's manager, and she told me she would have it towed if it wasn't gone by noon that day. The Park Avenue still would not respond. While I stood there trying to figure out what to do--pay to have it towed back to my apartment? Pay to have it towed to a repair shop, even though I couldn't afford to have it fixed and probably wouldn't want to put that kind of money into the old clunker--one of my former Scout leaders walked out of Mimi's, having just finished breakfast with one of his employees from his roofing company.

They came over to see what was wrong, and quickly offered their truck and tow rope to help us out. They got the Buick to a repair shop in the lot next to their office, which happened to be run by the son of a couple my parents know! He checked my car out, and let me know that I would need a new engine in addition to the radiator and whatever else was wrong with it. He refused to take any money for inspecting the car or keeping it at his place for a few days.

The shop of the guy I bought my Buick from is literally next door to the one I got towed to. He had replaced the transmission and a few other parts not long before selling it to me, so he offered to take it back, and will wait until he finds a replacement engine or something, and that Park Avenue may eventually go another 50,000 miles.He even gave me $250 for it!

So, if you overlook the part where my car died and I was left without transportation for six weeks (following on the heels of six weeks of very unreliable transportation), things really couldn't have worked out any better for me. Any time I have major car problems, it seems like there's always some pretty significant silver linings.

Now all that's left is to tell you about my new car! Come back soon for the final installment of the trilogy!