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Cars

Not my ’79 Olds, but close.

Every car has a story. A list.


I have been reading The Autopian since it was founded. Really, I’ve been reading David Tracy for years, and he and his fellow wrenching enthusiasts have been sort of the gateway for me into caring for cars that Tony Bourdain was when it came to travel–a sort of acknowledgement that it’s a fine thing to do, wrenching, that normal, non-mechanical people can do it, that cars are machines, and every machine breaks now and again, and even if you can’t solve it, it’ll be okay.

Anyway, David Tracy put out an article this week about all of the cars he’s bought and sold, and it made me wonder if I could compile a list of the cars I’ve owned (including the ones Kelly and I have owned together). And here is just as good of a place as any to catalog them.

1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass Salon. My first car, inherited from my stepmother, Mary. When I earned my driver’s license in 1997, the car was 18 years old, but to my teenaged self, it felt 118. It was, admittedly, a car from another era. Its small block V8 ought to have provided tremendous power, but because it came from a time of fuel efficiency, it barely coughed up more than 115 horsepower. Mine was gold with a beige fiberglass top. Actually, gold is an exaggeration. The car I drove was dull brown. It consumed oil as greedily as it did fuel, which I thankfully could purchase for $0.95/gallon in those days. When I worked and saved and had enough money for a replacement when I graduated high school, we put the Olds in the front yard with a “for sale” sign in the windshield and a price of $800. A couple came by to test drive it and stole it. Later, we found it in a pay-by-the-week motel in Statesville. Mary felt so bad for the couple (who had apparently lived in the Oldsmobile for a while with their kid) that she just let them have it.

Misty Mountain

DIARY


Friday morning, and for a late February day it’s already much warmer than it ought to be. Highs today and through the weekend will climb into the 70s. The roses are budding, the bulbs are pushing shoots out of the ground, and spring is threatening. It’s too early–we’re at least a couple of weeks ahead of schedule, if not more, and a cold snap could bring a lot of heartache. March snow is a real thing in North Carolina, even if we’re all but sunbathing ten days after Valentine’s.

Kelly is in Las Vegas for a meat-up, and yesterday and today I’ve woken up early to play varsity parent. There’s a lot to do on a regular school day: breakfasts, lunches, puppies, hair, packing, drop-off. The kids are very helpful. This morning I put in Annie’s earring after I accidentally tugged it out while brushing her hair. It occurred to me I’d never once poked an earring through her ear. She was a good sport about it.

Not only am I parenting solo, but Kel’s minivan went into the shop this week to get a nose job (read: new bumper to replace the one that got a hole in it when she got into a bump-up almost a year ago in Hickory). While the minivan was in Franklin for repairs, Kel was driving my car, and I’ve been driving Woodrow the Wagoneer.

Fog Lights


After ordering a new switch from BJ’s Offroad (a useful and well-stocked supplier of FSJ parts and accessories in Washington), Carl and I went back to work on the fog lights in the carport this evening. Carl had come up with the electrical wiring diagram for the headlights to compare. Using his meter, we confirmed we had power to the switch at the harness (but the old switch didn’t work, hence the new one), and we knew the lights themselves had good wiring.

Still, even with the new switch in place, we had no fog lights. That left the relay that sat between them to test. Carl popped it off, reading he schematic printed on the side as if he were an archaeologist interpreting an ancient rune. After figuring out which of the five prong was which (and consulting the wiring diagram printout), he went back to work with the ohm meter, confirming the relay worked–in theory.

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