MAACOh My God

While I do appreciate the ease of living that having a car affords me, I can’t get over the fact that they’re so expensive to maintain. When I first started driving I rode under the impression that, after the final payment was made, or if your parents bought you one outright, that was it. End of story. Even if the car was a ragged, aging, piece of junk (which mine was), there would be nothing which would demand my semi-hard-earned money. Except for gas.

As the years drove on, my tires, much like my disillusionment with the ways of the automobile world, wore increasingly thin. The first time I bought new Goodyears for my aquamarine Ford Tempo was an experience that I will never forget, namely because it was something akin to watching someone steal cash from my wallet and then light it on fire.

This week I not only had to buy new tires, but my brakes recently decided that they, too, wanted some attention. And so, like a frazzled mother with children in a toy store, I broke down and made arrangements to get two new tires, an alignment, and have my brakes serviced. The entire process took about five hours. That’s from the time I arrived five minutes late for my appointment to when they called, saying they were finished, and I nearly cried as I checked inside my wallet for the poor credit card, scuffed and chipped like it had just returned from a shopping trip with one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey.

My grandmother gave me a ride back down to the garage — this after waking up early to bring me back home the first time. It felt strange having to depend of someone else for transportation. It was as if I were missing something vital to my very existence, and I wondered how on earth someone could go through their life not having a vehicle for transportation. At the garage I walked up to the cashier’s window. I opened my wallet, anticipating a total at least as devastating as news of a nuclear attack. Really, the number she gave me stood more in the ballpark of a tornado warning, but that still didn’t stop me from cursing, slightly, under my breath.