It’s a sign of how enmeshed I am with my car (Barney the Wonder Truck) that I’m feeling incredibly guilty about thinking about trading him in. Like I’m contemplating cheating on him with a younger man.
Barney and I have been together a long time. 15 years. I’ve put all but 6 miles on him. And I love him. I do. And it’s not that the other cars are more attractive, or better built. It’s just that it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to get him repaired. It takes forever for parts to show up. If they can be found. My sun visor is flying at half mast, and there’s not a replacement to be found. And I’m starting to worry that I’ll end up with an unfixable problem of catastrophic proportions. Some sort of weirdass mechanical widget that holds the whole thing together snaps, and I’m stuck with a 1 ton paperweight.
Unfortunately, I don’t qualify for the cash-for-clunkers. Though at 15 years old, that’s saying something for the gas mileage on the old boy. And the trade-in value is nil. And there is the fact that I don’t know if I will ever love a car again as much as I’ve loved this one.
It may be time to move on. But my heart just isn’t buying it.
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