A Juddering Heap
04/05/07 07:29 AM Filed in: Mexico
Sometimes I think I've seen the ultimate in keeping an old car running. Then I run across another even more extreme.
This car looks like a disaster. It was delivering vegetables to the San Juan de Dios Mercado. It's a commercial vehicle, a business asset.
Chunks are missing. Body rot has advanced to where the integrity of the chassis is seriously weakened—it looks like it's about to break in two.
It's really, really ugly.
That's a stick holding up the trunk lid. That's a home-made hasp welded to the lid, to which a chain, hanging from a welded-on box member, is attached to secure the (no doubt) valuable freight carried inside. There appears to be no actual lenses in the left tail light assembly.
Against all odds, the interior is even worse.
No door panels, no horn button, NO DASHBOARD. Hence, no speedometer, no gages, no headlight switch. I think the driver twists some of those loose wires together when he wants lights. Or maybe when he just wants to start it.
There are a couple of small speakers perched where the speedometer used to be. Gotta have tunes, man. And a good gear shift knob.
It's a running wreck. Probably unreliable as hell. Or is it?
Look at the quality of that tire! Best-looking thing on the whole car. There's probably good money in everything that's really needed to make that car work right. Work right when there's daylight and it's not raining, that is.
I feel good about this vehicle. It reminds me of cars I owned as a teenager that I kept running with chewing gum and spit. It has been run for so long and so far that its per-mile ecological footprint is negligible.
Jean and I drive a 2002 Ford Explorer. I feel prodigally wasteful when I fire it up. Somebody sideswiped it and sheared off the side view mirror. We replaced it. $300. The heap of rust we've been discussing hasn't had side view mirrors for years. Replacing them would be a needless expenditure. All you have to do is slow down and look over your shoulder. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
Our Explorer has been scraped on all four sides, now. Someone sprayed gold graffiti on it. Someone else stole the radio antenna. Cobblestones and potholes have loosened up a lot of stuff: it rattles and squeaks. But none of the stuff that's wrong with the Explorer actually needs fixing. Better to save the money for really good tires.
This car looks like a disaster. It was delivering vegetables to the San Juan de Dios Mercado. It's a commercial vehicle, a business asset.
Chunks are missing. Body rot has advanced to where the integrity of the chassis is seriously weakened—it looks like it's about to break in two.
It's really, really ugly.
That's a stick holding up the trunk lid. That's a home-made hasp welded to the lid, to which a chain, hanging from a welded-on box member, is attached to secure the (no doubt) valuable freight carried inside. There appears to be no actual lenses in the left tail light assembly.
Against all odds, the interior is even worse.
No door panels, no horn button, NO DASHBOARD. Hence, no speedometer, no gages, no headlight switch. I think the driver twists some of those loose wires together when he wants lights. Or maybe when he just wants to start it.
There are a couple of small speakers perched where the speedometer used to be. Gotta have tunes, man. And a good gear shift knob.
It's a running wreck. Probably unreliable as hell. Or is it?
Look at the quality of that tire! Best-looking thing on the whole car. There's probably good money in everything that's really needed to make that car work right. Work right when there's daylight and it's not raining, that is.
I feel good about this vehicle. It reminds me of cars I owned as a teenager that I kept running with chewing gum and spit. It has been run for so long and so far that its per-mile ecological footprint is negligible.
Jean and I drive a 2002 Ford Explorer. I feel prodigally wasteful when I fire it up. Somebody sideswiped it and sheared off the side view mirror. We replaced it. $300. The heap of rust we've been discussing hasn't had side view mirrors for years. Replacing them would be a needless expenditure. All you have to do is slow down and look over your shoulder. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
Our Explorer has been scraped on all four sides, now. Someone sprayed gold graffiti on it. Someone else stole the radio antenna. Cobblestones and potholes have loosened up a lot of stuff: it rattles and squeaks. But none of the stuff that's wrong with the Explorer actually needs fixing. Better to save the money for really good tires.
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