I took my 17 year old Chevy Celebrity station wagon in for it's yearly inspection a couple of weeks back.  Honey's mechanic has been keeping her roadworthy since I came here to Johnstown almost 3 years ago.  I suspected we would have to put new brakes on her since it had been two years and there are lots of hills here in Johnstown.  That, and while I was in California Honey was driving her and kept telling me the brakes were squealing badly.  He kept asking me how I couldn't hear that?  So when I got home, I turned off the radio and turned up my hearing aids and went for a ride up and down the hill.  I didn't hear a thing but figured the mechanic would fix her as good as new.  He's a magician with cars.

Honey came home for lunch that day and told me he called the mechanic since he hadn't heard anything.  The mechanic hadn't gotten to my car yet.  Honey said he would call him later that afternoon to find out if it would be ready to be picked up later that night or if we would have to make some repairs and pick her up tomorrow.  I waited patiently for some news of my car.  Nothing, until Honey walked through the door at the end of the day.  He said we had to go pick it up.  I was surprised that he didn't mention repairs and was just about to get all haughty and proud because my car was just that good it didn't need repairs and Honey's ears were imagining things.  That's when my little bubble burst.  Honey just lowered his eyes and shook his head like he was a doctor telling a patient's family that the patient didn't make it.

Honey told me the mechanic wouldn't finish the inspection because my car wasn't going to pass.  Not only wouldn't it pass but it needed so many parts that it would have cost me more than I had saved to eventually buy a newer car and he didn't think he could find decent parts to fit an old car like mine.  It needed new brakes and rotors; new brake lines; a new gas tank and gas lines; a catalytic converter; and a couple other things I can't remember.  Tears sprang to my eyes.  Honey just said, "Lets go pick it up.  The mechanic isn't charging you since he can't do anything.  We'll go to my friend at the Chevy dealership tomorrow to look at cars.  Really sweetie, how long did you think it would last?"  I thought, "just a bit longer."

I remembered when I got her.  It was the last summer in the forest.  I knew I was going to loose everything.  I didn't have a car and my mom had been driving over from Cleveland every couple of weeks to make sure I could get into town to get supplies for the restaurant.  My neighbor would take me to the bank, or I would pay one of my employees to drive me to town.  Once my banker came up for lunch and offered to take my deposits into the bank since he was going there.  I was 40 miles from town.  

My food vendor approached his dad about getting rid of his old car since it just sat in their garage.  His dad and mom both drove new cars and they just kept this old one for hunting and camping.  They used to use it to haul their boat to a lake but they had sold the boat the year before.  It was 14 years old and he was willing to sell it to me for $800.  Eight hundred dollars I really didn't have but that I would juggle out of the growing list of bills that I owed.

My mom took me to town to the DMV where I met the gentleman with my soon to be new car.  We took care of the money and paperwork.  The gentleman offered to put the plates on my new car and as he finished he placed his forehead against the back door and gave the car a quick kiss goodbye.  Then he handed me the keys and asked me to take good care of her.  My mom and I thought it was funny in a strange kind of way that the man had become so emotional about a car.

I drove it back to the forest where my neighbor stopped by to take a look.  "You have to name it!" she said.  Apparently people take better care of their cars when they name them.  It was proven by some study.  I gave it some thought.  The car was older.  It was sturdy.  It had been a hard worker.  It had been reliable.  It was a family car.  I wanted a name that would reflect all that it was.  Something classic and classy.  Betty.  It looked like a Betty.  Betty was a tough old bird, so was my car.  Betty.  It fit.

Betty soon came to symbolize my independence.  I no longer had to impose on others to get me through the day.  Betty gave me freedom.  When I was stressed I could take Betty to visit Honey.  When the summer was over and I couldn't bare the thought of spending another winter struggling just to have the bank foreclose,  Betty carried all my worldly possessions to Johnstown where I could start over.  Betty took me to interviews and then to work and back.  Betty allowed me to expand Honeys food vocabulary.  Betty even carried all of Honey's camping equipment down to his favorite campground.  She never broke down, not once.  She always started, even when it was 10 below zero.  She still got almost 40 miles to a gallon of gas.  And, she could handle ANY amount of snow, even on hills.  Betty was the best car I've ever owned.  I didn't want it to end.

We went to see Honey's friend at the Chevy Dealership.  They wanted to know what I wanted.  I like small, American, good gas mileage, dependable, two or three years old, without too many electronic gadgets and gizmos (electric windows and door locks confuse the hell out of me) .  They suggested Cobalts.  I really liked the Cobalt we rented in Fort Lauderdale.  We set out to the used car lot.  There were three Cobalts to choose from.  We were looking at them and discussing the options when I asked about a car that was sitting next to a Cobalt.  It was a Cavalier.  It looked a little smaller than the Cobalt.  They had five Cavaliers to look at.  The Cavalier is the Cobalts predecessor.  Same engine, slightly different body type.  The Cobalt is a little roomier. 

We drove all of them.  Honey and I discussed what we liked and didn't like about each one.  They all had manual windows and door locks.  Most of them had mileage in the 40's.  The Cobalts were roomier and the center console was arranged better but I found their seats uncomfortable.  Honey really left it up to me since I would spend the most time in it and make the payments.  I really appreciated his input on the mechanical stuff.

I narrowed it down to two of the Cavaliers.  They both had about 27,000 miles on them.  The silver one was a four door, the green one a two door.  We played around with who might have owned them before.  The silver one we figured was owned by someone young.  It looked like they had removed a stereo system from it, didn't clean it very well, and the engine didn't seem to have much pep.  We figured the green one was owned by someone older.  They had added those clear window awnings that my dad liked to put on all his cars, and Honey and the salesman were joking about the wheel covers.  Wire wheel covers are popular with the senior drivers I hear.  It seemed to run a little quieter and had some pep when we took it on the freeway.

The salesman let me take it home for the weekend and to make insurance arrangements.  We found plenty of excuses to drive it around town.  At the end of the day, Honey moved Betty to the spot in front of the house and the new car got to sleep in the garage.  I felt bad.  Poor old Betty was being kicked to the curb.  I made all the arrangements and we returned the car to the dealership so they could clean it up and give it one last check up.  I would have the rest of the week to say goodbye to Betty. 

Every day Betty faithfully carried me up and down the hills of Johnstown, to work, to the store, and then home again.  Then Saturday Betty drove us back to the dealership where she was parked on the side of the building reserved for cars that needed repair or cars that were being traded in (cast off).  We went inside to finish the paperwork.  The salesman commented that I didn't seem so happy for someone that was getting a new car.  Then we went to the other side of the building.  The nursery side.  Where the new arrivals were kept and handed out to new owners.

There was my pretty new car, all shiny and perfect.  It even smelled new.  We got in and arranged the paperwork then pulled past the front of the building.  On the way out of the lot I took one last look at Betty and understood how someone could become so emotionally attached to a car.

tags: dreams  cars  chevy  cavalier  celebrity  old  new  letting go  

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