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Reflections February 2015

Moving On

Awesome Automobile Doesn’t Downsize Well

By Patsy Pipkin

The one Husband was sold on was another plain vanilla, like my last two white Town Cars. But, I couldn’t get the Taurus out of my mind and moseyed back to the “cinnamon” car, with little gold flecks, sleek lines and smart curves.

My Ford Taurus is still a head-turner, even if she has been around the block a year or three. I spied her immediately upon entering the Ford/Lincoln agency, and didn’t even consider the white Lincoln that Husband had his eyes on.

Having driven a Lincoln for several years, I decided it was time for a smaller car. But as Husband guided me past this beautiful little car toward the Lincolns, I began to feel hopeless. I still had my eye on a smaller car, and, okay, I’ll admit, I tend to judge a car by its color.

The one Husband was sold on was another plain vanilla, like my last two white Town Cars. But, I couldn’t get the Taurus out of my mind and moseyed back to the “cinnamon” car, with little gold flecks, sleek lines and smart curves.

Now, it isn’t just friends who are impressed with my new car. Everywhere I go people say things like the car hop at Sonic. As she hurried out to take my order, she exclaimed, “We were all looking at your car. What kind is it? And what’s that color?”

And a few days later, a young man carrying groceries to my car said, “Whoa! Is that a Taurus? Awesome!”

My awesome Taurus was perfectly happy sleeping beside husband’s bigger-than-necessary, four-door Ford pickup, but then we got the urge to downsize. Some of our friends had already done it, and we were convinced it was our time.

In the process we found ourselves with a much smaller driveway and garage. Sure, the house is also smaller, but it’s the driveway to our new home that has caused misery. First I backed into husband’s pickup truck, hurting not only my awesome car, but causing considerable damage to his bigger-than-necessary truck!

Anyway insurance came through and a local vehicle-fixing place had the truck looking like new in no time.

So we then took my bent-fender car to the same fixer. Only, when we returned to pick it up, I was shocked! They had “buffed” my cinnamon fender, and kind-of pressed the indentation, but no way did it look like “new.”

I couldn’t believe they didn’t doctor my car as much as they did husband’s truck. Who decided to do that? I questioned as Mr. Fixit squirmed.

Turning to husband, I asked, “Are we about to trade it for a new car?”

“Well, no.” he replied, rather sheepishly. “But I figured this would do.”

“Well. It won’t do!” I replied, feeling more determined to have my way than ever before. I’m usually a satisfied customer, no matter what, but this simply wasn’t right. His truck looked good and my car looked bad.

Mr. Fix-it, blushed as I continued to insist, “Can’t you make it look like his truck looks. Like new?” I quizzed.

“Yes.” He replied. “I can do that, but we’ll have to keep it another couple of days.”

“That’s okay.” I replied. “Just do as good a job on the car, as you did on the truck.”

Husband, who never had seen me so perturbed, smiled and said to his friend, the fixer, “We’ll just share the truck until you get it fixed.”

So, we left the body shop and shared his truck for a few days while the Taurus got a do-over.

I’d like to tell you that’s the end of my story, but it’s not. Now my car has a five-inch deep scratch on its backside and some chicken scratches nearby because I dropped my house keys onto the garage door opener, which was in the little pocket between the seats, because it wouldn’t hang on the visor anymore, because its little clip had come off, and the keys hit the delicate place that makes the garage door open and close.

Yes, the garage door came down as I backed out and wham! It left its mark!

Yesterday, I went to the body shop alone, because husband said it was my duty, doings, or some such words.

I found the fixer and asked if he had any of that cinnamon colored paint left over. He said, “No, but I can mix some more.”

As I showed him the damage, he laughed, “You should have seen what our car looked like when my wife let the garage door down on it! Just bring it by one day when you have an hour to kill and I’ll fix it for you. Free of charge!”

Yes! That’s exactly what my friend, the fixer, said. “Free of charge!” But then he added, “You just keep bringing me your wrecked vehicles, and we’ll be friends forever.”

I haven’t found an hour to spare yet, but I’m still looking for one. Advice to would-be downsizers: Check out the size of the garage and driveway really, really good!

 

Patsy Pipkin is a freelance writer, columnist, and author. She lives in Searcy, Arkansas.   

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