Ode to 240

October 6, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.

I dedicate this post to my 240 SX. Please indulge me a little sentimentality about my car.

Sweet, pretty little 240, how I love thee.
Let me count the ways.

Your superior handling and your peppy pick up
Dependable and fun, you never choke up
Your sunroof reveals the sunshine’s bright rays
You’ve brought me nothing but joy all of your days

Your odometer reads 172,100 miles
You’ve taken me many places, brought so many smiles,
To Baltimore so many times I’ve lost count,
How much happiness, can I recount?

The beach, the mountains, and places between
Disc golf, violin, groceries, and new jeans,
Parties and random drives to calm my soul
When I was lost, you made me whole.

Luggage, food, and cats to the vet
Furniture, a grill, and two patio sets
While onlookers stared, mouths agape
So much fitting inside your sleek shape

We traveled together these 15 years
Good times, and bad, through joy and tears,
When you breathe your last, my heart will break.

There’s no one else who can take your place.

Okay, let’s face it, I’m no poet, but I had to try. About two months ago, something spilled in my trunk. My best guess is that some coffee leaked out of a thermos I sometimes carry to work (though I did find a rotted avocado that had rolled out of a grocery bag and into the side of the spare tire well). Ever since, my trunk has smelled like, well…rat puke, as I imagine rat puke would smell, sort of sickeningly sweet, but mostly sickening. Anything that comes in contact with the trunk floor ends up smelling faintly of whatever happened in there.

So, first thing this morning, since I finally had time to attend to this troubling odor, I pulled out the steam machine and prepared to clean the car. It’s been a long time since I washed or waxed it, let alone cleaned the interior, so I was glad to finally get to this long overdue task. There was a time when I used to wax my car several times a year and would park at the furthest spot in a parking lot to avoid the smallest possible ding. After 120,000 miles or so, I learned to relax, but still, my 240 remains my most prized possession. It still has the original clutch, and in the last fifteen years, has been the most reliable thing in my life, even more so than the people I’ve known (my husband excluded of course).

I love my car. In all the time I’ve had this car, I’ve never been tempted to get another. Five years ago, in an attempt to mitigate future pain, and being a planner, I thought I ought to start investigating what was on the market, knowing that one day I’ll have to face driving something else. There’s no question that will a traumatic time for me, so I need to do whatever I can to prepare myself. Five years later, with 172,000 miles now, there’s still nothing else even remotely appealing.

This morning, the car wouldn’t start. I assume it’s the starter. It’s only the third time it’s broken down, once before because of the starter (I was at home then too) and the other time because of the alternator, when I was about 100 miles from home. Three times in fifteen years, only three! Other than routine maintenance, which I have been diligent about, I had to replace the alternator and a small part that had something to do with the clutch. It’s possible there were some other minor repairs, but I don’t remember them. In the history of cars, is it possible that there has ever been a better car than mine?

After I got her cleaned up, I called the tow truck. As she got pulled onto the truck bed, and the driver took her away, I had to turn away to hide a few tears rolling down my cheek. I know that right now she just needs a starter, but I have to face the fact that the day will come when I have to drive some boring, uninteresting, boring, slow, poor handling, and unreliable piece of metal. As I wiped away tears and fanned at my face, my husband asked, “Seriously?” “Yes, seriously,” I replied a little embarassed.

It’s just a car, but it’s been such a fun car, so reliable, and it’s taken me so many places that allowed me to create so many memories. As a single gal, I never worried about 10 hour trips alone to Florida or Baltimore, or long trips to Atlanta, Asheville, or a far-away hiking or camping destination. I went where I wanted to go. It’s transported all kinds of cargo and moved me three times. Sometimes I think my horrible luck with electronics is some sort of karmic attempt at balancing out my amazing luck with my 240.

I have friends who get new cars every few years, and I feel sorry for them, always searching for that perfect car. My parents too had about the worst luck with cars as anyone could. One time they were hit by a garbage truck. The driver was drunk. Having no recourse to sue the city in those days, they had to just scrap the car and start over, always ending up with a worse car than the one before.

Car-wise, things can only go down from here. Sometimes, I admit, I fantasize about having a cup holder, or maybe room to transport passengers, but the trade-off in a clunky handling sedan just isn’t going to be enough to compensate. I suppose I really don’t have a right to complain about spotty Internet access, or doorbells that randomly ring themselves. These things hardly compare to the frustration and expense I’ve been spared over the last fifteen years from having such a reliable car and no car payment.

One day a caller asked the Car Talk guys how long she should keep a car that had mileage similar to mine. One of them (years of listening and I still can’t tell them apart) replied that he had a theory, that once a car reached 185,000 miles, it would run forever.

Every time I see another 1,000 miles turn over on my car, I get a little choked up and think, “Oh, I hope he’s right. I hope he’s right!”

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