I got some news this afternoon that I didn’t exactly greet with shouts of joy, but it’s just part of life. My car has been making some odd, metal-on-metal pre-grinding noises the last few days so I took it in to my car guy and yep, I need new front brakes. I’ve also recently had a new battery installed and just had new tires put on last week. Throwing money at my car is getting a little old, but they do say that bad things come in threes, so this should be the end of it for a while.
This is the kind of thing my mom gets really upset over, and when I told her–she’s my ride when I take my car in so she kind of needs to know–she suggested that I get a new car. Because a new car would be so much cheaper than new brakes. Mom logic–go figure.
The thing is, if you own something with moving bits, those bits will fail at some point. I get that and I don’t get too bent out of shape when it happens. Not too much is built to last anymore, it seems. The most dependable things I own are the oldest–two TVs that I scrounged off my parents years ago, both of which are at least thirty years old and both of which work perfectly well. The picture isn’t as crisp as a new TV, the colors aren’t as true, and the sound isn’t stereo, but they both work just fine and I don’t see any reason at all to fix what ain’t broke. I’ll use them until they die or I move, whichever comes first, before I even consider a new TV.
But back to my car–I sorta like it. It’s the first car I ever bought on my own, without my dad or a male friend or relative giving me advice, and I’m convinced I got a heck of a deal on it. It’s been a good car, and I intend to do as I did with my last car–eventually drive it into the ground. I drove my last car for ten years before I had to junk it, and I felt I’d gotten my money’s worth. That’s not a bad feeling.