I got the car for my high school graduation in 2003. At the time it was a brand new Mazda Protege Speed. It's always been so... orange. It's a manual. No cruise-control. And the dashboard is wonderfully old-school. No electronics are visible. It's really a very awesome car. Up until now it has never even threatened to break down. It's needed routine maintenance, sure, but nothing more for the last eight years.
Driving the car on that back road to Mivoden has always been one of my favorite things. The car isn't built much for speed, but it can corner like nothing else. It's like it's leaning into the corners before I even start turning. You can feel the road. I had to work very hard to slide the back tires going around the tight corners at 45 mph. But I managed it a couple times. That car can handle any corner at well over twice the speed recommended by those "optional" yellow signs.
On my first date with Heidi I was driving us to Olive Garden with a TV in the backseat (no idea why). I was kind of showing off my driving skills until I hit a corner really hard and the TV blew through my right passenger window. I almost cried on our first date, and I am so glad it happened.
Heidi and I drove off in that car after our wedding.
For our first Summer as a married couple I took some classes at the Rosario Beach Marine Station. For the trip there we crammed every single thing we owned into that car. It rode a little low for the six-hour drive, but didn't seem any worse for the wear. And it handled the drive back to Walla Walla - again loaded with everything - just fine.
Our drive across the country last September to Virginia definitely put some miles on the car. It started making some worrisome noises, so we sent it into the shop a couple weeks ago. Turned out we needed to replace the clutch and a few bearings in the transmission. Then we got the car back today. I was so relieved to be driving it again. We drove two miles to Lowe's to get a flower pot and some screws for our dresser. Then as I started pulling out of the parking lot I felt the clutch jiggling a bit, then this awful screeching sound, then the car died. I tried to start it again but only got more awful sound, so I decided I better not try to start it anymore.
We called AAA to get a tow-truck. The tow-guy tried turning the key and listened to the sound, then sort of braced himself against the seat. In his New York/hillbilly hybrid accent he informed me that the car sounded "real bad" and he wouldn't be surprised if the whole engine was shot to bits. He liked the color though.
But what does he know? He's probably wrong. The car is going to be okay.
He took the car and Heidi and I to the repair shop where the car had just been "fixed" over the last week. Unfortunately the shop was closed for the evening. Heidi and I opted for him to leave us there and we walked home. It was only a mile, I think, but it felt like a long walk. The rain did not lift our spirits.
It's pretty obvious that the folks at the shop broke something, so I'm hoping that they'll fix it and cover the cost. But I'm also worried that the damage is irrepairable. And the implications of that got me thinking.
I never thought that an object could have such an effect on me. Without the car I'll still have my memories, but it's like I wouldn't be connected to them anymore. It would be like none of it actually happened.
We're so far away from most of the people we know and love (aside from those new friends we've made here, who have made our time here so far very pleasant). And we got here - so far away - in that car. It's like our only connection back. Without the car, home won't feel like it was ever really there. That last connection would be severed. Every major event in my life since high school has sort of centered around that car. It's part of my identity.
But we don't know it's dead yet. I'll bike over to the shop tomorrow morning and talk to them about it. I just have to sleep first.
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| Such a cool car |
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