The end of an era, possibly
~11:30 PM, I have just dropped people off from hockey carpool (shots about even, but we won 6-3 -- a one-timer in front that I had no real chance on, a wraparound that snuck under my skate, and a bizarre wraparound that hit the post, then my arm, then went in) and am now heading towards the nearest purveyor of salt-and-grease-masquerading-as-food.
I pass a police car at a cross intersection and make a point of noting my speed -- I'm doing 41-42 in a 40 MPH zone. He turns right and pulls me over anyway. I show my papers upon request, and it turns out the insurance cards in my wallet are expired (oops -- I neglected to replace the cards earlier this year).
"That's ok -- I'm sure your insurance is current -- the reason I pulled you over is your license plate lights are out." After running my ID through the system he lets me go without even a fix-it ticket.
Rectifying this is going to be problematic. The wiring for everything on the rear door hatch of the shitbox (my term of endearment for my '85 Volvo wagon which has over 250K miles on it) goes through the hinges; between exposure to the elements and 20+ years of opening/closing the hatch, all the wires have been severed. Consequently *nothing* on that door works (electronic locking/unlocking, wiper, defroster, and evidently the license plate lights).
So I foresee massive labor costs. Although, I can kinda see how to remove the door, so maybe I should just try to buy some of the right gauge of wire and do it myself. The wires probably go all the way through the car body into the fuse box though, so doing it myself probably means a half-assed electrical tape splicing job (and there may not be a lot of slack to play with, so this may prove to be intractable).
In the end it may just not be worth the trouble, especially since I just dumped $2K into my newer car (110K service, rear window motor assembly -- only one part was broken, but you have to buy the whole thing -- new tires, and replacing a wheel bearing that had gone bad and was making a hell of a rumbling noise). Which is a pity, because the shitbox is otherwise in pretty decent condition, all things considered.
It saddens me that something so prosaic might mean the end of the line for the car I've been riding in since I was 12 and driving since I was 16. Now 20+ years of memories are flooding back, the places the car has taken me, people I've shared rides with, etc. (alas, nothing ever worth writing to Penthouse Forum about). In the end I suppose you just have to know when to let go.
I pass a police car at a cross intersection and make a point of noting my speed -- I'm doing 41-42 in a 40 MPH zone. He turns right and pulls me over anyway. I show my papers upon request, and it turns out the insurance cards in my wallet are expired (oops -- I neglected to replace the cards earlier this year).
"That's ok -- I'm sure your insurance is current -- the reason I pulled you over is your license plate lights are out." After running my ID through the system he lets me go without even a fix-it ticket.
Rectifying this is going to be problematic. The wiring for everything on the rear door hatch of the shitbox (my term of endearment for my '85 Volvo wagon which has over 250K miles on it) goes through the hinges; between exposure to the elements and 20+ years of opening/closing the hatch, all the wires have been severed. Consequently *nothing* on that door works (electronic locking/unlocking, wiper, defroster, and evidently the license plate lights).
So I foresee massive labor costs. Although, I can kinda see how to remove the door, so maybe I should just try to buy some of the right gauge of wire and do it myself. The wires probably go all the way through the car body into the fuse box though, so doing it myself probably means a half-assed electrical tape splicing job (and there may not be a lot of slack to play with, so this may prove to be intractable).
In the end it may just not be worth the trouble, especially since I just dumped $2K into my newer car (110K service, rear window motor assembly -- only one part was broken, but you have to buy the whole thing -- new tires, and replacing a wheel bearing that had gone bad and was making a hell of a rumbling noise). Which is a pity, because the shitbox is otherwise in pretty decent condition, all things considered.
It saddens me that something so prosaic might mean the end of the line for the car I've been riding in since I was 12 and driving since I was 16. Now 20+ years of memories are flooding back, the places the car has taken me, people I've shared rides with, etc. (alas, nothing ever worth writing to Penthouse Forum about). In the end I suppose you just have to know when to let go.