Episode 8: Another Pothole In The Road...

I never have a complaint when it comes to transportation. I've taken it all. Cars that have no shocks, buses, planes, motorcycles...name a mode of transportation other than a pocket rocket and I've probably been on it. Space has been limited on some, on others, too much space but the one thing that I've never done is complain about it. Talked about it, sure, but never complained.

Pearl's been a great truck since I got her. She's been nothing less than a little powerhouse. The only problem that I've ever had with her is that some parts needed to be replaced from time to time. She was low-maintenance and when it came to Nissan Hardbody pickups, she followed the Indestructible model set forth for them all. I feel extremely blessed to have had her in my life. She's hauled stuff for me and even got me here where I never thought I'd go and, all the while, her speakers resonated with songs that were very near and dear to me.

I saw potential in her that I'd never seen in any vehicle I'd ever driven or owned. Pearl was going to sport an onboard A.I. at some point with a killer display of Kathy Ireland on a pop-up monitor to tell me in a very sweet voice when something needed repair or even give me that warm smile when I told her to just get me home and set the thing to autopilot.

Today dashed those hopes...temporarily. See, I'd scheduled an oil change and engine service for her at the local autoshop. I'd been a little worried about the suspension since the move. She worked harder than a hundred pack mules out of Mexico to get me here and I hadn't had the chance to properly give her the royal treatment as I'd been meaning to. For fact's sake, our relationship had been strained. I hadn't driven her except where I absolutely needed her and I secretly felt as though I'd neglected her, so I told Al The Mechanic to go ahead, check the shocks and suspension and see what, if anything was wrong.

We got the call this morning. I'd dropped her off the night before and left the key and hotfooted it home. I thought for certain that nothing could be that wrong until I got the call. The brakes were okay. The service had gone without a hitch but the shocks were damp, the CV boots were shredded, the wheel bearings needed replacing and packing and the suspension had so much play that there was no possible way that it would have passed inspection without repairing it first.

Ouch.

What made it worse...it would cost over Three Grand to fix it.

I wanted to cry. I'd put her through hell and now, she was paying the price. She was a rolling roadhazard and I didn't even know it. I thought that maybe that heavy load of my decimated possessions had caused this but the pressure from the load had actually helped keep it all in check. I felt like the lowest form of life on the planet for having done all this running with her.

So now, she's in the shop, still sitting there in the lot with her elegant and tough posture but I know that underneath it all, she's hurting and it kills me to see her in that state. At present, I have no clue as to how she'll handle the work. I'm hoping that, when it's over, she'll roll along like a brand-new truck off the lot. I won't really set my goals that high but I know she needs it.

I can already hear the cries of "Just Get A New Truck!" as I write this but understand, after all this truck has done for me, there's no way I can do that. It just wouldn't be right. I bought and paid for this truck when I left Louisiana. It's the first vehicle that I've owned that didn't just cut and run on me when the going got tough. She toughed it out for me and to bail on her now would be the worst thing I could do. It's not even an option.

Think back to your first car. It was in your name. You kept it up. You got into that thing and headed out on the open road to Destination: Anywhere and it didn't matter where you went or what you did, you just did it. When push came to shove, that vehicle was there and when it finally went, you felt like a part of you died with it. It wasn't just losing a car or a truck...that was the loss of a family member. So you did what you dreaded doing...you got a new one. It took some getting used to but you did and then, you formed yet another relationship but you'll never forget that first, will you? It's just not the same. It never will be. There will always be that void deep down inside and no matter how new of a model you get, it's just not the car with which you'd started.

Speaking of Mechanical Things, my PSP developed some spots on the screen recently that I can't get rid of. I ended up shelling out for a new one...the slimmer model that came with the game Rock Band and the movie School of Rock. Let me tell you something about Rock Band. I suck at Guitar Hero but you Guitar Hero Yayhoos have it friggin' easy as hell. You only need to be one member of the band. Me? I have to be all four, so the next time you start blabbin about your damn scores at me, expect me to pull some ballcrushing bragging. You have one position, I have all positions and until you can top that, screw your fake Les Paul. It didn't impress me then and it doesn't impress me now. I also actually play a real guitar so get some motivation and we'll speak about it then, kthnxbye.