One Last Heartbeat
The car's name was Putt Putt. It was a 1997 Geo Metro, bought second-hand a little under two years ago. It is a white two-door stick, with pink swirls on the sides and a Chevy emblem, and it says 'Heartbeat'. But it is a male car, we couldn't call it 'Heartbeat'. Instead, the name "Putt Putt", from a comical kids computer game and vaguely reminiscent of the sound eminating from the 3-clinder 55 horsepower engine.
But it was a great car.
It was second hand, and all of the driving on Alberta highways (where 'sanding' the roads in winter has taken on alternate meaning... the 'sand' is the size of pea gravel or greater) has badly chipped the pain in many places. The saving grace was that it was a white car. We went to the nearest Canadian Tire and bought some white touch-up paint. Afterall, how many shades of white are there anyway? We sanded down all the rust and applied the white pain to each of the small quarter-sized blemished all over the vehicle. On the doors, the hood, the roof, larger spots in the corners. When we were finished, the white dried to a super bright white. This contrasted with the dulling aged almost cream color of the little machine. The final effect was so comical, I could barely stand up. Each of the small spots had been painted assuming they would blend in. Instead it looks very much like the car had a bad case of acne, and was covered in little dabs of acne cream...
This wonderful ride has given us many trips to the mountains, into ice climbs and scrambles, and anything else we could do to it. Once, we took a trip up the icefields parkway for an iceclimb with a firend. The highway (as usualy for february) was terrible, large 4 inch thick patches of ice randomly, and puddles of melted water in between. (It was OK, we had our snow chains. Yes. Snowchains.) I drove all the way in, it was challenging. We climbed on the warm day, and on our trip home, David drove. He found a lovely patch of slick ice for the right two tires, and a large puddle for the left two tires to hydroplane on, at 80 km/h. With a "Hold onto something", we spun out, did a complete 360 into the snowbank... Everyone was all-right, and since it was a little car, it was OK as well. It was perched nicely ontop of the snowbank, albeit facing in the correct direction. And us without our snow shovels.... So we dug with our climbing helmets. After 10 minutes of digging, we were making progress, and several helpfull drivers had stopped and helped us out as well. A big F250 with a tow cable got us the final bit out, and with a top up of oil we were safely on our way. Good little car.
Then Putt Putt got an upgrade, roof racks! But since it's a two-door, the rear bar's clips had virtually no raingutter to clip into. So Dave's ingenious solution was to drill right through the roof and bolt the suckers on. And to his credit, he sealed each hole well, and everything worked incredibly well. Waterproof and very strong. Our zit-car now had braces.
Putt Putt had many other fun trips. Once, 14 hours of driving to Lloydminster to pick up an orphaned little Eastern Rosella. Another time, taking Dave, myself, and two of our friends, and all of our mountain bikes and gear, to Lake Louise and back. (We took pictures, Putt Putt was pretty over-laiden. Not that that's hard to do with a Metro.)
Last week, Putt Putt died on the way to a friends place. Luckily we stopped infront of a Community Center, and a few good samaritans helped me push him off the road. A few calls to David and Eric's help to charge the battery again, and we were on the road again. With a new battery, we found out the alternator was dead. We ordered a new one.
Today, David spend a few hours installing the new alternator. I was present for the inaugural test, the car ran just fine. You could even hear the engine lug when the lights were turned on, so the alternator was working.
Tonight, Dave drove to pickup a friend for his birthday dinner. Five blocks from the house, the car died. Big major death this time. Screaming angry death. We called a friend and towed it to our carport. It makes angry noises when it's turned over. Dave will take it apart tomorow. Our thoughts are a blown valve, also known as a 'garbage car'.
Thankfully we have a new car in the garage. A 200 Civic, given to us by Davids parents. I really don't think that any car will ever out-do Putt Putt for personality. That car has some wonderful stories to share. And you always knew when we came to the party, the engine was quite distinctive. (Yeah, the /engine/, that's it).
So, now what do we name the new one?
But it was a great car.
It was second hand, and all of the driving on Alberta highways (where 'sanding' the roads in winter has taken on alternate meaning... the 'sand' is the size of pea gravel or greater) has badly chipped the pain in many places. The saving grace was that it was a white car. We went to the nearest Canadian Tire and bought some white touch-up paint. Afterall, how many shades of white are there anyway? We sanded down all the rust and applied the white pain to each of the small quarter-sized blemished all over the vehicle. On the doors, the hood, the roof, larger spots in the corners. When we were finished, the white dried to a super bright white. This contrasted with the dulling aged almost cream color of the little machine. The final effect was so comical, I could barely stand up. Each of the small spots had been painted assuming they would blend in. Instead it looks very much like the car had a bad case of acne, and was covered in little dabs of acne cream...
This wonderful ride has given us many trips to the mountains, into ice climbs and scrambles, and anything else we could do to it. Once, we took a trip up the icefields parkway for an iceclimb with a firend. The highway (as usualy for february) was terrible, large 4 inch thick patches of ice randomly, and puddles of melted water in between. (It was OK, we had our snow chains. Yes. Snowchains.) I drove all the way in, it was challenging. We climbed on the warm day, and on our trip home, David drove. He found a lovely patch of slick ice for the right two tires, and a large puddle for the left two tires to hydroplane on, at 80 km/h. With a "Hold onto something", we spun out, did a complete 360 into the snowbank... Everyone was all-right, and since it was a little car, it was OK as well. It was perched nicely ontop of the snowbank, albeit facing in the correct direction. And us without our snow shovels.... So we dug with our climbing helmets. After 10 minutes of digging, we were making progress, and several helpfull drivers had stopped and helped us out as well. A big F250 with a tow cable got us the final bit out, and with a top up of oil we were safely on our way. Good little car.
Then Putt Putt got an upgrade, roof racks! But since it's a two-door, the rear bar's clips had virtually no raingutter to clip into. So Dave's ingenious solution was to drill right through the roof and bolt the suckers on. And to his credit, he sealed each hole well, and everything worked incredibly well. Waterproof and very strong. Our zit-car now had braces.
Putt Putt had many other fun trips. Once, 14 hours of driving to Lloydminster to pick up an orphaned little Eastern Rosella. Another time, taking Dave, myself, and two of our friends, and all of our mountain bikes and gear, to Lake Louise and back. (We took pictures, Putt Putt was pretty over-laiden. Not that that's hard to do with a Metro.)
Last week, Putt Putt died on the way to a friends place. Luckily we stopped infront of a Community Center, and a few good samaritans helped me push him off the road. A few calls to David and Eric's help to charge the battery again, and we were on the road again. With a new battery, we found out the alternator was dead. We ordered a new one.
Today, David spend a few hours installing the new alternator. I was present for the inaugural test, the car ran just fine. You could even hear the engine lug when the lights were turned on, so the alternator was working.
Tonight, Dave drove to pickup a friend for his birthday dinner. Five blocks from the house, the car died. Big major death this time. Screaming angry death. We called a friend and towed it to our carport. It makes angry noises when it's turned over. Dave will take it apart tomorow. Our thoughts are a blown valve, also known as a 'garbage car'.
Thankfully we have a new car in the garage. A 200 Civic, given to us by Davids parents. I really don't think that any car will ever out-do Putt Putt for personality. That car has some wonderful stories to share. And you always knew when we came to the party, the engine was quite distinctive. (Yeah, the /engine/, that's it).
So, now what do we name the new one?