Posted by: Deanna | March 21, 2008

Dying Cars and the Cost of Burial

The drama this week has been my daughter’s car. We’re in Savannah. She’s in Orlando.

When she lived at home, in high school, attending the jr college and working, we bought her a get-around car. Cheap. Her father and I affectionately called it ‘the Flintstone Car’ because you had to peddle really fast to get it to get up to the speed limit…of 35 or 40 mph. It got her where she needed to go and discouraged her from drag racing or doin’ donuts in the city hall parking lot on a Friday night. And she was a little embarrassed by it so she rarely had a group of kids in the car just cruisin’ around.

The object of the Flintstone car was to get her through high school. Then we’d figure out what to do next. The car had other ideas, though, as one day it wouldn’t go forward. It would only go in reverse. That was fun!

So off we went to look for another used car, one that had a little more get up and go since she’d be off to Orlando shortly after graduation and we didn’t want her to get killed in the traffic down there. We found a suitable vehicle. It was red. She didn’t want another red car. Oh well. It had a/c. That quit working shortly after she moved to Orlando. But it got her where she needed to go and we only had to pay on it for two years.

It’s paid off.

It died.


We had just been discussing the car and how, even though it had given her some trouble, it had never stranded her on the side of the road. That afternoon the phone rings and Dayna says,

“Guess what?’

She had nursed the thing into a parking lot out of traffic when it had lost all motivation to live while driving home from work.

She was upset.

She was hysterical.

She was in tears.

Then finally

she was just plain, old mad as hell!

She had already called her boyfriend to come and pick her up. If you’re having visions of the boyfriend coming to save the day, fixing the car with a flip of his wrist and wiping his brow with a gleaming white handkerchief that mysteriously appears from his greasy, oil stained clothes…forget it.

Ryan’s in film.

He don’t do cars.

Dayna knows more about cars than Ryan.

And she lets him know this.

His job is to listen to her rant and rave and drive her home.

He does this well.

He loves her.

Well, after a few phone calls on her end a friend of hers from work knew a guy that knew a guy that would come and look at her car. Mechanic by trade, he delivered the bad news. He wouldn’t put the money into it to fix the minor things to get it running when the head gasket was just about gone and was ready for the mortuary.

Yesterday, she and I were talking on the phone and she told me how many places turned her down for financing on a car. We were discussing different options and I thought of Craig’s List online. With nothing better to do I jumped on the internet and browsed the site. She signed on, too, and we looked through the list of local cars for sale.

As it turns out, after we hung up, there was a car listed that was near her. She gave the guy a call and learned that he’s a mechanic and loves to buy old cars, fix them up and sell them.

She and Ryan met him last night after he sent her some more pictures of the car with more details of the work he’d done.

After much discussion, a little haggling, Dad on the phone with her while he looked at the pictures she forwarded to us, juggling the money in the bank and much appreciation to this guy, Dayna will have a new (old) car today.

I just have to go to the bank and transfer all the money I have to her account. <sigh>

But it’s worth it to hear my baby so happy. I guess. Yeah, I’m sure. She’s happy.



  1. wow, that was hilarious! we especially loved the part about ryan and the whole car thing! awesome! well put, and we both completely agree! love ya

    ps: ryan says hi!

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