whitey runs for the border (a way back wednesday bit)

…that’s where the white car with that on the odometer heads today”.

it was the weirdest thing. but let’s back up a bit.

my current ride is the first car i went out and got myself…and it almost didn’t happen. before my current employ, i had a nasty habit of picking jobs that sounded bad-ass…but they only paid “BAD”, not “bad ass”. so, pretty much all the cars i’ve driven were co-owned by mom.

and there’s only been three.

the first was a 1985 chevrolet caprice classic. mom got it new off the lot in 1985. i wrecked it twice – once when i was eighteen, and it was finally totaled out on my birthday in 1992 when i turned 21.

and despite my current reputation, back then i never drank. ever. OR anything else. except cigars of course, but that didn’t happen at eight thirty in the morning, which is when the wreck did. i have no idea the mileage at that point for two reasons –

1. when you get t-boned first thing in the morning by a mercury going 70 in a 45, you don’t remember a lot of details. it was bad. JAB saw it.

2. the odometer flipped at 100,000 back to 00,000.0. so, it was anyone’s guess.

but after seven years of loyal service (almost to the day) the caprice was behind us, and we got a used 1991 chevrolet cavalier in 1992 with just under 15K miles on it. today’s title is what the odometer read when JAB and i pushed it back into my garage memorial day weekend of 2k2.

and that’s actually low.

for about six months the speed sensor gear was out, so that meant the transmission didn’t shift into overdrive (’cause it thought it was going under 55), the speedometer didn’t work (which was fun when i got pulled over one new years eve and got to answer “honestly, no” to the question, “do you know how fast you were going?”) and the ODOMETER didn’t work. so figuring that i had the thing ten years and put 26,735.445 miles on it per year, you could probably conservatively say it had 278,000 miles, give or take.

which ain’t bad for a little white four banger.

but, one day i took off to san marcos and either the head cracked or the head gasket – either way, the repairs were worth a lot more than the car at that point (it sustained a blow that made it a salvage vehicle when my neighbor backed into it and tried to tell their insurance company it was my fault – they disagreed) and it has set dormant in my garage ever since as a kind of “storage vehicle” (which i had to explain to ME last night is something that does occur in the south from time to time, ‘cept usually it’s a dead pickup with a camper top.)

a salvage company had promised me $50 to haul it off, but i had to get a replacement title (the old one disappeared long ago) and that would run me around $28, eating up more than half the proceeds. so imagine my surprise last night…

i had been out of the car for less than four seconds when a blue truck pulled up in front of my house and a guy got out and asked if i’d sell the white car. i explained that it didn’t run, and what had happened to the engine, and that it had frame damage. he said he didn’t care, and that he would haul it down to mexico for parts. so, after some haggling we agreed on $125 for it – $100 up front so he could haul it to mejico this morning, and $25 upon me forking over the title…so i basically clear $100 and my old car gets to travel on one last road trip.

not bad.

i was a little surprised they appeared so quickly when i got home AND instantly wanted to know about the white car being for sale – it kinda made me feel like they had been scoping the house or something. i guess we’ll know if there’s a problem when i come home and all our shit’s gone today…

…but i’ve been told that probably won’t happen.

and while it’s not as dangerous as the “i’m gay and i’ve come to take your guns away” one, the fact that my car will be hauled down to mejico with a “whitey will pay” bumper sticker on it is pretty fucking funny.