The author, John Marek, is executive director of the Anson Economic Development Partnership.
I come from a family of car nuts. All my siblings and their children and their children’s children are gear heads. My brother-in-law’s funeral procession looked like a photo shoot for Hot Rod magazine, led by his casket in the back of his ’55 Chevy Nomad wagon. I wouldn’t put myself in that same category of automobile enthusiast, but I know a Ford from a Chevy and have a strong appreciation for classic pickup trucks and utility vehicles, so people are often surprised when I drive up in a nondescript 12-year-old Honda CR-V.
The “Blue Bomber,” as I started calling her when she passed the 100,000 mile mark, is pushing 250,000 miles now and every morning is a sort of contest; I call it “ignition roulette.” I turn the key and if she starts, I WIN; I’m $20,000 richer for the day! But I also know that one day I’m going to lose and I will have a decision to make.
In general, the Blue Bomber has been a trouble-free vehicle. Other than standard maintenance, I’ve only had three significant repair costs: a steering gear at 125,000 miles, the A/C compressor at 200,000 and the starter a couple of months ago. That ran me $500, which is about the maximum investment I am willing to make in her at this point. She still sports the original floor mats, which are worn completely through under the accelerator and brake pedals, because somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind I am certain that if I spring for a new set she will go belly up the next day.
If you assume that I’m driving a decade-old compact SUV because I am cheap, you’d be partially – okay, mostly – correct, but there is a little more to the story. In the spring of 2016, I drove her to Ohio for a fishing trip and to visit with family over the Easter weekend. At the time, she had just passed 150,000 miles and on the long drive back home, I noticed signs of wear that got me thinking about getting something newer. I did some research over the next few weeks and had pretty much decided to replace her with a new GMC Terrain. I talked it over with my wife, she agreed, and we were planning to go to the dealership the next Saturday and
see what kind of a deal we could make. That Friday at work, though, I was called into the conference room by my board and told that my boss was resigning, that I would be the interim director for some unspecified period, and beyond that my services would not be required.
That meeting, and the five months of gut-wrenching uncertainty which followed, put the kibosh on any thoughts of a new vehicle. But that was more than three years ago and I have been gainfully employed at AnsonEDP ever since, so why am I still driving the Blue Bomber? I’d like to think that she’s become a personal symbol of resilience to me; that riding her until the wheels fall off makes a statement about persevering through difficult times. Realistically, though,I’m probably just cheap. Or maybe it’s like the floor mats; if I start looking again, something terrible is bound to happen. Either way, I’m in no hurry to move on. When I do, though, I’m pretty sure it won’t be a Terrain.