I have been thinking about this little tapestry made by Sarah Swett the last few days.
You see, Sarah and I had a conversation about her search for a new car when she was in Colorado this past summer. She had worn her car all the way out and was in the midst of the difficult process of moving on.
I have been dancing around that decision for a couple years now. I will reach a moment where I am sure that I need to get a new car and then I'll decide that it doesn't matter if the door gaskets leak on me in the rain or that the air conditioning only works when the car is moving or that the paint is peeling off in sheets now. My mechanic has consistently told me it is safe and I have believed him.
Until Friday. My ride to the mechanic had just pulled away and the news across the desk was emphatically (from three different men with a liberal amount of grease under their fingernails) that I should not drive this car until they are able to work on it again next week. When three different people who really do seem to know something about cars tell you this, you have to listen.
And with the rest of the news about the parts attrition which happens with advanced age and mileage, the thought of getting a new car now instead of waiting just "one more year," suddenly became a reality.
The thing is, I really like this car. I've had it more than 16 years now and it has given me surprisingly little grief. It kept me safe when I skidded off the road on black ice at 50 mph. It witnessed the entire life of my 14-year-old yellow lab who died two years ago now. It carted a 28 inch 8-harness Macomber and boxes of books and yarn along with me, my dog, and what clothes I could cram between the harnesses of the loom on multiple traveling therapy assignments. I love its 5 speed engine and the way it performs on icy roads and steep hills. And I love that for 16 years it only left me stranded at the side of the road one time (well, twice... but the time I busted the oil pan on a rock driving up a rural Colorado 4WD road can hardly be held against it). I never wanted the green color which was all the dealer in Reno, NV could get me in 1999, but this Volkswagen Golf never held that against me. She has been a gem of a car.
But all mechanical things do come to the end of their life at one time or another. I'm not sure I'm quite ready for it, but somewhere I'll find the courage to go car shopping. Perhaps I need to follow in Sarah's footsteps and weave my new car into existence. I took Emily's car to the grocery store yesterday and was so delighted that there were both electric windows and a cup holder. Perhaps change won't be so bad after all.
There is a great photo on Sarah's blog of her little car weaving at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands in South Dakota. http://www.afieldguidetoneedlework.com/blog/what-i-meant-to-do-today I don't know what car she actually bought, but I hear it all turned out okay.
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| Sarah Swett, four-selvedge tapestry |
I have been dancing around that decision for a couple years now. I will reach a moment where I am sure that I need to get a new car and then I'll decide that it doesn't matter if the door gaskets leak on me in the rain or that the air conditioning only works when the car is moving or that the paint is peeling off in sheets now. My mechanic has consistently told me it is safe and I have believed him.
Until Friday. My ride to the mechanic had just pulled away and the news across the desk was emphatically (from three different men with a liberal amount of grease under their fingernails) that I should not drive this car until they are able to work on it again next week. When three different people who really do seem to know something about cars tell you this, you have to listen.
And with the rest of the news about the parts attrition which happens with advanced age and mileage, the thought of getting a new car now instead of waiting just "one more year," suddenly became a reality.
The thing is, I really like this car. I've had it more than 16 years now and it has given me surprisingly little grief. It kept me safe when I skidded off the road on black ice at 50 mph. It witnessed the entire life of my 14-year-old yellow lab who died two years ago now. It carted a 28 inch 8-harness Macomber and boxes of books and yarn along with me, my dog, and what clothes I could cram between the harnesses of the loom on multiple traveling therapy assignments. I love its 5 speed engine and the way it performs on icy roads and steep hills. And I love that for 16 years it only left me stranded at the side of the road one time (well, twice... but the time I busted the oil pan on a rock driving up a rural Colorado 4WD road can hardly be held against it). I never wanted the green color which was all the dealer in Reno, NV could get me in 1999, but this Volkswagen Golf never held that against me. She has been a gem of a car.
But all mechanical things do come to the end of their life at one time or another. I'm not sure I'm quite ready for it, but somewhere I'll find the courage to go car shopping. Perhaps I need to follow in Sarah's footsteps and weave my new car into existence. I took Emily's car to the grocery store yesterday and was so delighted that there were both electric windows and a cup holder. Perhaps change won't be so bad after all.
There is a great photo on Sarah's blog of her little car weaving at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands in South Dakota. http://www.afieldguidetoneedlework.com/blog/what-i-meant-to-do-today I don't know what car she actually bought, but I hear it all turned out okay.