Tire kicker could now kick himself (AUDIO)
I never liked the car, though I have to admit I am not the type of person who gets very attached to cars in the first place. Not one who likes to give into stereotyping, I have my suspicions that car adoration might be a gender thing. My son loves cars. Read: Anything over $500,000 with a racing engine. And my father loved cars. Read: Brand-new cars. At any given point, he owned at least five cars, sometimes seven, which, given the size of our family, was a strategic move as well as a hobby.
He was forever turning over his fleet and upgrading. It was sport, folly and thrill all rolled into one. And he loved getting a good deal on a new General Motors — his brand of choice until the ’90s, when he switched over to European cars. “The bigger the boat, the better” was his motto. But at no point did any of this rub off on me. So it was no big adjustment when I married my husband and found out he was obsessed with cars as well. But the oddest twist was he loved used cars.
“It’s a Pennsylvania thing,” I was told. A man and his car were meant to tinker. I have since learned that there seems to be some unwritten code, some competitive pride to be able to buy a used car at a bargain price and with time, love and elbow grease, make it better than it was before. And then rub it in everyone’s face. Personally, I think that’s what’s sticking in his craw right now. He has been talking about getting rid of the Jeep for a year now.
With my son turning 16 this week and in need of his own car, and every body shop guy in town, including his brother, telling him that it won’t pass inspection, he had come to the point of accepting that he had to part ways with his leaky mistress. There was even talk of donating her to charity for the write-off. When another co-worker happened to be looking for a car, a light bulb went off as the win-win proposition unfolded. And he’s been whining about it ever since.