As much as I hate to admit it, I have become very attached to a material possession. The object of my affection is a sweet '77 El Camino that I bought three years ago. Always wanted one. Got one. And, it has been my main ride since 2006. Now, I have the luxury of buying a "real" car, as my daughters say. Options abound, money isn't the issue for the first time in my life, and yet I find myself really struggling with saying good-bye to EC. EC is paid for. It's so classic. It's been good to me. It is, however, a money pit. That worn out catch phrase is so true--my head knows what to do, but my heart says otherwise.
We had a date two nights ago--waited for the sun to go down (no AC in EC) and drove the thirty miles to the nearest town to get a few groceries. Just me and EC, driving on HWY. 180 with the windows rolled down, no music, no talk radio....just a lovely moonlit night. Can I do that in a new car? Sure, but that new car will tempt me to use its fancy amenities that I'll pay for dearly.
One daughter says keep the El Camino if I really want to. The other one says (and emphatically, I might add) sell it. The analogy she used was that EC was like a family pet, and the time just comes when we have to let go. (This is also the offspring that doesn't like my current schnauzer pets either). I should have told her that I didn't just put her up for sale when she was a money pit...aren't all children? It just comes with the territory, sort of like a classic car. However, it's hard to argue with a daughter who has demonstrated far better money management skills than her mother ever had, and I am very proud of her for that. Bottom line, there is no reasonable reason to keep my beloved old car. I hate reason sometimes.
You see, I had this vision of pimping my ride. I went as far as to talk to a guy in a city nearby about rebuilding the entire thing--the acid dip to stop the rust, a new fuel injection engine that would allow me to drive it anywhere and get 25 mpg instead of the current 10, new gauges, camper top on back for that cross country road trip I've always wanted to take, and of course the new white paint job with a navy blue pin stripe trim. A New York Yankee logo on the back would complete the masterpiece.
And then, I come back to the real world where practical people are rewarded and dreamers are misunderstood--and understandably so. It's not a matter of right and wrong, rather appropriate and not-so-appropriate. I get that, but I don't want to get that.
Ads have been placed with few bites. Maybe I've set the price too high on purpose--a Freudian slip. But, I bet it sells before long as I lower the stakes. This time next month I'll be riding in a nice car. It'll probably get 35 mpg, have a great sound system, provide a quiet ride and AC and will be very dependable. Despite these great qualities, I find it ironic that a new car will cost me more but be made with less quality parts than a 1977 El Camino. Chrome was standard then, not extra.
I just hope someone buys it that will appreciate it as much as I have and enjoy it as much as I did.
My new dream? Well, I hope to write and publish a book in the next two years that will be a bestseller or at least make me some fun money. I'll track down my old EC and do just what I had hoped to do all along, restoring EC to its former glory.
Then, read my cross country blog as the schnauzers and I will take to the road. Bark on.
We had a date two nights ago--waited for the sun to go down (no AC in EC) and drove the thirty miles to the nearest town to get a few groceries. Just me and EC, driving on HWY. 180 with the windows rolled down, no music, no talk radio....just a lovely moonlit night. Can I do that in a new car? Sure, but that new car will tempt me to use its fancy amenities that I'll pay for dearly.
One daughter says keep the El Camino if I really want to. The other one says (and emphatically, I might add) sell it. The analogy she used was that EC was like a family pet, and the time just comes when we have to let go. (This is also the offspring that doesn't like my current schnauzer pets either). I should have told her that I didn't just put her up for sale when she was a money pit...aren't all children? It just comes with the territory, sort of like a classic car. However, it's hard to argue with a daughter who has demonstrated far better money management skills than her mother ever had, and I am very proud of her for that. Bottom line, there is no reasonable reason to keep my beloved old car. I hate reason sometimes.
You see, I had this vision of pimping my ride. I went as far as to talk to a guy in a city nearby about rebuilding the entire thing--the acid dip to stop the rust, a new fuel injection engine that would allow me to drive it anywhere and get 25 mpg instead of the current 10, new gauges, camper top on back for that cross country road trip I've always wanted to take, and of course the new white paint job with a navy blue pin stripe trim. A New York Yankee logo on the back would complete the masterpiece.
And then, I come back to the real world where practical people are rewarded and dreamers are misunderstood--and understandably so. It's not a matter of right and wrong, rather appropriate and not-so-appropriate. I get that, but I don't want to get that.
Ads have been placed with few bites. Maybe I've set the price too high on purpose--a Freudian slip. But, I bet it sells before long as I lower the stakes. This time next month I'll be riding in a nice car. It'll probably get 35 mpg, have a great sound system, provide a quiet ride and AC and will be very dependable. Despite these great qualities, I find it ironic that a new car will cost me more but be made with less quality parts than a 1977 El Camino. Chrome was standard then, not extra.
I just hope someone buys it that will appreciate it as much as I have and enjoy it as much as I did.
My new dream? Well, I hope to write and publish a book in the next two years that will be a bestseller or at least make me some fun money. I'll track down my old EC and do just what I had hoped to do all along, restoring EC to its former glory.
Then, read my cross country blog as the schnauzers and I will take to the road. Bark on.
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