Monday, August 15, 2005

The Car Angels: Someone to Watch Over Me

My husband and I decided about two years ago not to buy or lease new cars anymore, mainly because we both put wayyy too many miles on them and because, of course, the decrease in value the moment you drive off the lot.

So in purchasing our "new" used cars, we got a practical vehicle: a 1995 Dodge Caravan (for toting the three munchkins around in) and a "cool" one: a 1995 BMW 530i five-speed in cabernet red (for me). (My husband drives a two-seater truck for his business.)

In buying the cars, we knew that in exchange for no car payments we could expect one major repair per year per vehicle (in the $1,000-2,000 range), plus some probably other minor ones, and we would drive them till they died. Steve's last used car, a a 1990 900S Saab, had 250,000 miles on it when it finally went kaput. His 1987 Mustang had 230,000 miles on it.

(I'm getting to the good stuff, bear with me.)

In March, we plunked down $3000 for some major work on the BMW and figured that'd be it for the year. And in June, we spent another $1000 on the Caravan for some other stuff that needed to be fixed.

Then came July.

I noticed that the coolant light was on in the BMW, and one morning I asked Steve to put coolant in for me before I left for work. He came back upstairs about three minutes later and said, "You can't drive anywhere. I poured the coolant in and it immediately came out the bottom."

Uh-oh. All I could think of was another $1000-$2000 bill because of course, in exchange for lots of miles on a foreign car, it's harder and more expensive to find someone to work on it. (Especially in the Motor City, which is the metropolitan area where I live.)

Later that day, my father-in-law was over and I told him about the car. The next thing I knew, my father-in-law (whose parents came over from Germany) and our neighbor (about the same age as my father-in-law, and who also came over from Germany) had their grey heads under the hood of my German car (it was really cute). They wanted to put in enough coolant so I could drive to the mechanic three miles away without burning up the engine.

That was when I poked my head in and, looking into the mass of hoses and stuff I know nothing about, saw an unattached hose. "Could this be the cause of the problem?" I asked innocently.

It was.

Cost of the repair: $0.
Gratitude level: 10 out of 10.

Then came the third week in July. Two weeks later. I get in my car (the BMW), turn the key, and nothing happens. Try again. Nothing happens.

It's the battery, I figure after freaking out appropriately, and so does my husband when I call him frantically asking him to come home and help me jump it.

We try for three hours to jump my little car, and nothing works. In the meantime, we find out that the battery is under the rear seat (and it's impossible to get under the rear seat without the special tools that only the BMW dealers have--think cha-ching! cha-ching!). We also find out that the sun roof is stuck open. And I figure we're going to have to have it towed to the dealer, 20 miles away. GAKKKKK!

Then my husband does a very sexy thing. He starts the car by popping the clutch as we're pushing it down the driveway. In reverse.

Wow. Talk about a turn-on. Seriously. After working on the darn thing for hours, in 90-degree heat, he gets it started on the first try. I wanted to jump his bones!

So, we drive the car down to a mechanic who is not a BMW dealer but does a lot of work with foreign cars. I still can't get the sunroof closed. What if the sunroof has to be replaced? I know I need a new battery. Cha-ching! Cha-ching!

Sure enough, the mechanic replaces the battery. But they can't get the sunroof closed, and they want to take it to the dealer. They're talking about having to get into the mechanism, and so on, and I'm seeing dollar signs just climbing. I mean, the minimum charge at any dealer is $70 just for them to open the hood.

Finally, I get the call from the dealer. They got the sunroof closed, no sweat. Reinitialized it, I guess. And then the bombshell: no charge from the dealer.

Total cost of repair (including new battery and flushing A/C): $257.
Level of gratitude: 9 out of 10. (11 out of 10 for the dealer alone.)
Attraction to my magical husband: 10 out of 10.

So. Today. Two days after we get home from a really long roadtrip into the boondocks of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in the Caravan. (You know what's coming, don't you...)

I have to drive 50 miles away to a seminar. I take the Caravan. I leave the seminar at 3:30 and am driving along Big Beaver Road in Troy, Michigan (I had to put the name in there just so you could get a laugh over the name) and suddenly, the accelerator stops working.

I mean, I push it down and nothing happens. Nothing. Not a rev of the engine (which is still running), not a lurch...nothing. I have no choice--I coast to the side of the road and stare at the car. And swear at it. And turn it off and turn it on, and put it in DRIVE, and nothing happens.

The engine's running. The radio's going, the A/C's on. The power windows work. The brakes work. The accelerator does absolutely nothing. The car doesn't even inch forward when I take my foot off the brake.

I try it several more times--turn off the car, wait five minutes, turn it on, try again. In the mean time, I'm trying to get ahold of Steve, the kids, someone....no luck. I finally call a tow place, and they tow me to the nearest Chrysler dealer--only two miles away. (How lucky could I get?)

They look at me at the dealer when I ask if there's any chance they can look at it tonight (they close at 9:00--a rarity in itself) and shake their heads (I mean, the service guy shakes his head).

"Please?" I say. "I live 50 miles away and have no way home."

At this point, I'm thinking: transmission. The Caravan has 165,000 miles on it, and a new transmissions's going to be $1500-2000. EEEEKKKK!!!!

When I tell him where I live, the guy has pity on me and says he'll try and get someone to look at it in two hours. In fact, he gets someone to look at it in 30 minutes. I could have kissed him.

Then he comes out and tells me they have looked it all over, have hooked it up to the diagnostic machines, and have found nothing wrong with it. In fact, they had driven it into the garage!

I am baffled. No way. Absolutely no way.

But it's true. They can find nothing wrong. We take it for a test drive. It's fine. I drive home, and make it with no problem.

Total cost of repair: $55 for towing. $0 from the dealer.
(Did you read that? The dealer charged me nothing!)
Gratitude level: 12 out of 10.

Surely, surely the Used Car Angels have been watching over me.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

The Sexiest Song

There are millions of songs about love, desire, broken hearts and unrequited love. I've seen lists compiled by others (ie, "people in the know") and made my own lists (and mix CDs) of romantic or sexy songs.

Some of my favorites are well-known; some aren't. But I've recently decided that my all-time favorite Sexy Song is Everybody Here Wants You by Jeff Buckley.

(From his unfortunately posthumous album "Letters from My Sweetheart the Drunk.")

It's not just the lyrics; though they are beautiful...
Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss
A singing smile
Coffee smell and lilac skin
Your flame in me
...but the music itself, which starts off low and mellow, like foreplay, and rises into a maelstrom of emotion like a gentle orgasm. The music alone paints the image perfectly; the words just add the layers of emotions and sensuality.

Someday, I'll write a scene for that song. When I have the right man and woman and setting.

Buckley is (was) an extraordinary musician and singer. His debut album, Grace, brings me to tears, especially his version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.

And since we're on the topic of "bests," Lover, You Should Have Come Over, from the same album, takes my vote for The Angstiest Song.

How's this for poetry and imagery?
It’s never over...my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It’s never over...all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her
It’s never over...all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It’s never over...she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
When asked, I've described Buckley's music as operatic rock. His voice has amazing range, crooning one moment, smooth as ice, warm as velvet...and hard and passionate the next.

Grace is definitely one album I'd take to a desert island with me.

So what are your favorite "Sexiest" and "Angstiest" Songs? How about your favorite love song, period?

My favorite love song, period, is by Queen: You Take My Breath Away.
Look into my eyes and you’ll see I’m the only one
You’ve captured my love stolen my heart
Changed my life

Every time you make a move you destroy my mind
And the way you touch
I lose control and shiver deep inside
You take my breath away

Or maybe it's Thank You, by Led Zep.
If the sun refused to shine,
I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea,
There will still be you and me.

Kind woman, I give you my all,
Kind woman, nothing more.
Little drops of rain whisper of the pain,
Tears of loves lost in the days gone by.

My love is strong, with you there is no wrong,
Together we shall go until we die.
My, my, my, an inspiration is what you are to me,
Inspiration, look see.

And so today, my world it smiles,

Your hand in mine, we walk the miles,
Thanks to you it will be done,
For you to me are the only one.
Happiness, no more be sad,
Happiness....I’m glad.
Hmmm....I guess I could go on forever. Sting. U2. ALW's Phantom of the Opera. Barry Manilow.

(just kidding)

But I still stand by my votes for Sexiest Song and Angstiest Song. What are yours?


















The Sexiest Singer. Ever.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

What was Han Solo thinking?

My children like to play what they call "the movie game," in which someone gives the line from a movie and the others have to guess where it came from. (The more obscure the line, the better...but with a 9 year old, a 7 year old, and a 4 year old, that doesn't happen too often, and we're most often relegated to having to "guess" where "A llama? He's supposed to be dead!" came from.)

The other day, when put on the spot and having to come up with one that I knew they could figure out, I pulled from arguably the best of the Star Wars epics and quoted from The Empire Strikes Back, when Han Solo is just about to be lowered into the crypto-freeze chamber.


Leia says: "I love you."

He replies, "I know."

Of course, my eldest daughter picked it out right away...but then my 7 year old asked what it meant, and why I was rolling my eyes.

I explained that it was Han Solo's character...that Princess Leia was making a great revelation, and he was accepting it with his normal alpha-male, cocky attitude....the one that is so inconceivably (yes, that's from another of my favorite flicks) attractive to many of us women....

But then my husband stepped in and said, "No he wasn't. He wasn't being cocky...he was just about to be lowered into a crypto-freeze chamber, and he was scared shitless." Implying that he didn't have time to be worried about who loved him and who didn't.

Which put a whole 'nother spin on things and got me to thinking about the difference between we women and our counterparts. You know, the guys from Mars.

So who's right? Was Han being the cocky alpha-male...or was he just scared shitless?

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