A Perilous Journey
This week my first and faithful car went to drive down the sunny road that loops past the cheerful farm where my Ben-Cat chases butterflies in the sun.
There was nothing particularly glamorous about my 1996 bottle green Buick Regal, although it did have really great pick-up and was always fun and comfortable to drive. What the Peril lacked in flash, it more than made up for in reliability, character, and vroom.
The Peril was a hardened veteran by the time it came to me. It started it's story as Grandpa Ron's Florida car; for those of you who know how he treated his cars, a babied and pampered existence in the tropic climes of Florida. In those days it was just "the Florida car." Much the same as any other Buick Regal.
When my grandparents sold their condo in Florida, the 'Florida car" came north, made some questionable decisions, and fell in with some bad company. It was during this time that it moved to Fort Wayne, attached itself to Bethany "Shewoof" Casey--a known daredevil in those days--and earned it's name "The Peril."
Their first victim was Pick-Up truck. Shewoof egged the Peril on to attack an unsuspecting pick-up truck from behind, which the Peril willingly did, at the cost of getting it's face busted up. The Peril would wear those scars to the end. Funny enough, Shewoof would claim that it was "an eyelash in her eye" and not malicious intent that caused her to loose the Peril on poor truck.
Their next victim was Lamp Post, whose demise you will find chronicled in an earlier post. Again, the Shewoof blaming her gangsta ruthlessness on "ice" of all things.
But Shewoof moved on and stopped making so much trouble in our fair city--to the dismay of all--and the Peril mellowed out. It learned again the joys of working with a skilled driver--that would be me--and turned its ways back to good and honest driving from the reckless hooliganism of shewoofery.
That is not to say that the driving we did was boring or without important purpose. Patrick and the Peril is a tandem to rival Bellerophon and Pegasus, and there were still many wonderful and sometimes perilous journeys that it carried me on.
What chariot carried us swiftly passed the boarded windows and locked gates of an abandoned public housing project in Chicago (during operation Woo Emma) when Dogmeat said to get off on the wrong exit, and then gave us further directions that took us straight through some rough patches? That would be the Peril.
What caravan barreled across the pre-dawn Indiana countryside--stereo singing almost as loud as Dogmeat and I--on our way to meet girls and ultimate sing goofy karaoke in front of 500 people? That would also be the Peril.
What blessed troika carried me to class 4-5 days a week for 4 years while I finished school, demanding almost no major repairs because it knew the bursar was already bleeding me for all I was worth? Also the Peril.
Alas, the Peril succumbed to a series of ailments. Unbeknownst to me one of the warning lights on the dash was not working, so you could say the Peril suffered from the car version of an auto-immune disorder. We were on a trip to a friends wedding when I noticed that the engine was getting hot; we got to somewhere that was not a narrow shoulder on the side of 30 and pulled off and found out that the coolant had been leaking, and of course no low coolant light had come on.
It was bitter cold out, so the combination of low coolant and harsh temperature differential led to a cracked head gasket--which is the car of an aneurysm. We could have tried to repair at significant expense, but the Peril was also on it's way to a round of serious suspension work--car rickets--and was also looking at the potential of some more major brake work--car anti-psychotics.
In the end, it just did not make sense to keep the Peril is drear and salty Fort Wayne, which is why we sent it to the sunlands
It is sad to part with it; I have this odd tendency to get overly attached to the basic items that bring utility and order to my life. I guess I should not say basic items, rather, items that fulfill basic functions particularly well and in a way that I find especially comfortable or agreeable. The Peril was the first and foremost of these and will be missed.
So farewell, noble steed, and tell the Ben-Cat I said hi.
There was nothing particularly glamorous about my 1996 bottle green Buick Regal, although it did have really great pick-up and was always fun and comfortable to drive. What the Peril lacked in flash, it more than made up for in reliability, character, and vroom.
The Peril was a hardened veteran by the time it came to me. It started it's story as Grandpa Ron's Florida car; for those of you who know how he treated his cars, a babied and pampered existence in the tropic climes of Florida. In those days it was just "the Florida car." Much the same as any other Buick Regal.
When my grandparents sold their condo in Florida, the 'Florida car" came north, made some questionable decisions, and fell in with some bad company. It was during this time that it moved to Fort Wayne, attached itself to Bethany "Shewoof" Casey--a known daredevil in those days--and earned it's name "The Peril."
Their first victim was Pick-Up truck. Shewoof egged the Peril on to attack an unsuspecting pick-up truck from behind, which the Peril willingly did, at the cost of getting it's face busted up. The Peril would wear those scars to the end. Funny enough, Shewoof would claim that it was "an eyelash in her eye" and not malicious intent that caused her to loose the Peril on poor truck.
Their next victim was Lamp Post, whose demise you will find chronicled in an earlier post. Again, the Shewoof blaming her gangsta ruthlessness on "ice" of all things.
But Shewoof moved on and stopped making so much trouble in our fair city--to the dismay of all--and the Peril mellowed out. It learned again the joys of working with a skilled driver--that would be me--and turned its ways back to good and honest driving from the reckless hooliganism of shewoofery.
That is not to say that the driving we did was boring or without important purpose. Patrick and the Peril is a tandem to rival Bellerophon and Pegasus, and there were still many wonderful and sometimes perilous journeys that it carried me on.
What chariot carried us swiftly passed the boarded windows and locked gates of an abandoned public housing project in Chicago (during operation Woo Emma) when Dogmeat said to get off on the wrong exit, and then gave us further directions that took us straight through some rough patches? That would be the Peril.
What caravan barreled across the pre-dawn Indiana countryside--stereo singing almost as loud as Dogmeat and I--on our way to meet girls and ultimate sing goofy karaoke in front of 500 people? That would also be the Peril.
What blessed troika carried me to class 4-5 days a week for 4 years while I finished school, demanding almost no major repairs because it knew the bursar was already bleeding me for all I was worth? Also the Peril.
Alas, the Peril succumbed to a series of ailments. Unbeknownst to me one of the warning lights on the dash was not working, so you could say the Peril suffered from the car version of an auto-immune disorder. We were on a trip to a friends wedding when I noticed that the engine was getting hot; we got to somewhere that was not a narrow shoulder on the side of 30 and pulled off and found out that the coolant had been leaking, and of course no low coolant light had come on.
It was bitter cold out, so the combination of low coolant and harsh temperature differential led to a cracked head gasket--which is the car of an aneurysm. We could have tried to repair at significant expense, but the Peril was also on it's way to a round of serious suspension work--car rickets--and was also looking at the potential of some more major brake work--car anti-psychotics.
In the end, it just did not make sense to keep the Peril is drear and salty Fort Wayne, which is why we sent it to the sunlands
It is sad to part with it; I have this odd tendency to get overly attached to the basic items that bring utility and order to my life. I guess I should not say basic items, rather, items that fulfill basic functions particularly well and in a way that I find especially comfortable or agreeable. The Peril was the first and foremost of these and will be missed.
So farewell, noble steed, and tell the Ben-Cat I said hi.
Comments
Post a Comment