POS car*

*Used with no permission from Adam Sandler, who wrote the song,“Piece of Shit Car”.

Five years ago, when B and I joined our hearts, households and wordly possessions as common-law spouses, we each contributed vehicles to the joint assets. I brought in a brand new very cool Acura RSX. B brought in a GMC Jimmy of a “certain age”. Not decrepit, but if she could go to bars she would certainly be labeled “cougar”. Past her “best before” (or as the English say, “sell by”) date. But I suspect this bitch was a lemon long before she came into my life. B is inexplicably fond of her.

I……..hate…..this…….vehicle.

She has four wheel drive, a useful feature, I grant you. But the first time we were absolutely depending on 4WD, driving up a very steep old logging road to get to the Tricouni Meadows trail head, the 4WD died. Resulting in an extra 5 km of hiking (each way) on a near vertical, clear cut logged slope on a scorching day. With our friends whom we had promised a gentle Sunday hike in beautiful mountain meadow scenery.

The “check engine” light in her console goes on and off randomly, with no cause any mechanic has been able to determine. In spite of the fact we spent a king’s ransom on a new tranny. It lights up frequently when we are 100 km past the nearest town or service station. I then feel a sense of impending doom. No Sweetie, not adventure, doom.

The windshield wipers stop whenever the bitch feels cranky. Which is usually on the freeway at 110 km per hour in a downpour on our way to a party. Then the person in the passenger seat (me, because I would rather wrestle a grizzly bear than drive this unmaneuverable box), has to hang out the window and reach around the windshield to give the wipers a flick. I arrive at the event with wild, dripping hair and melting mascara rivers.

But as much as I hate this POS car, every time I look at her, sitting smugly in the driveway, I am reminded that, with the bitch, came a man with the most loving, generous heart that ever beat.

Recently, in response to my whining, B brought home some catalogues of shiny new S.U.V’s.

I threw them out.

Today's dream destination: Where there are no cars. Lillooet Lake, British Columbia, Canada.