It’s not been a great week for me.
Last Sunday, I was driving to work when I got caught in a flash-flooded street. That morning, I discovered that while the mighty Shaggin’ Wagon can withstand many things, but 10″ of fast-running water ain’t one of them. A good slug of water went straight down the air intake and into the engine, and the bull was dead. Apparently water doesn’t compress well, and a good portion of the bull’s heart’s moving parts got bent out of shape — quite literally.
Given the choice between scrounging up $2,000 for a new engine or an entirely different car I could pay off over time, I bit the bullet and sent the Shaggin’ Wagon on to a better place.
Now, Mr. Duckie has a new home. I was concerned about my manly reputation, as fostered by my bold choice of a white Taurus station wagon, so I chose carefully.
And what could be more studly, more fitting to my reputation as a swordsman, than a car named after a sword?
Hence my choice of new wheels: a goldish-tan 1995 Buick LeSabre with barely 70,000 miles on the clock.
My friend Candy suggested I take nominations for a name. Her suggestion, “The Old Fart Cart,” is NOT much to my liking. Unlike the Shaggin’ Wagon, nothing readily springs to my mind for this one. It has one drawback: the directionals are very, very quiet. Within the first 10 minutes of the test drive, I found myself fulfilling the stereotype by going about 3 miles with the left blinker going and going and going…
It came with a rather hefty debt burden, along with the expenses involved in pronouncing the Shaggin’ Wagon DOA (Dead On Aspiration of water). So I’m putting in a LOT of extra hours at work, piling on the bucks to get my own head figuratively above water.
And I will NOT be driving down that street in heavy rain again.
Wish me luck, folks.