Posted 8:16 pm Sunday, February 12, 2012
And I’m ready to roll again
I've been itching for a road trip for a very long time. The rumble of the pavement under my tires, the mile markers and road signs zooming past, destinations unknown waiting for me.
Since 2009, I've been rather stymied in a car two shades better than a jalopy.
A year ago, my mechanic recommended hospice.
Six months ago, the automatic transmission finally decided to stop shifting out of first gear. And fixing it would cost twice as much as the car was worth.
Now, I shouldn't complain -- I got that car for free. And as a child, I did say I wanted to drive it when I grew up.
It was an odd sort of family heirloom.
My grandmother bought the shiny teal Ford new 20 years ago, and I loved zipping around in it with her. When she died in 1999, my mother inherited it.
And she almost sold it in 2009 when I wrapped my beloved Chevy Cavalier around a light pole in south Tyler. I walked away with relatively minor injuries, but my prized car now resembled a lobster claw.
It still makes me sick to think that my little black Chevy and I could go on no more adventures to the Grand Canyon or Graceland or any other place my heart desired.
That's how I ended up with the now-dull Tempo. It gave me nothing short of trouble the times I took it farther than Dallas. It overheated on my way to Galveston one fall and then went ahead and blew a radiator hose just as I arrived to visit my mother a year later.
The windshield leaked when it rained, the air conditioning quit in 2010, and the power windows rarely worked. The headliner was in shambles, and the roof was partly caved in after someone walked over it when my mom owned it (the bare footprints on the car were the giveaway).
I also harbored ill will toward the Tempo after I was trapped inside its poorly designed interior during a 2009 Christmas Eve snowstorm.
So when I parked the car for the last time, I started taking the bus to work, walking a lot of places and having to rely on the graciousness of my co-workers and friends for rides.
On one hand, much of my freedom was gone. I had to plan trips to the store around how much I could realistically carry a mile from the bus stops. I had to go when the bus schedule dictated, and I certainly couldn't leave the confines of my bus route without outside intervention.
But on the other one, I could read while I commuted to work. I didn't have to pay attention except when crossing the street. I didn't have to buy gas or check my oil. And I lost a few pounds from all the walking I did.
However, it was tough. My wanderlust was hemmed in. It led to finding a new way to walk to my bus stop as often as possible.
But my regular transit days are over for now. And many road trips are on my horizon -- I bought a new-to-me car on Tuesday.
It's a tiny SUV with tons of cargo space for my penchant for overpacking, and all the seats can fold down into a bed, so I could theoretically camp in it without a tent.
Admittedly, I shed a tear or two when I discovered the dealership had picked it up for my trade-in. Its spot in the carport is desolate without the dull green sedan.
It was as though I'd lost one more piece, one more memory of my grandmother.
Now, I'm ready to roll, to get out there and keep seeing places I haven't seen and meeting new people along the way.
Look out, highways, I'm coming for you.
Vanessa Pearson is a staff writer for the
Tyler Courier-Times--Telegraph.
