Thursday, March 13, 2014

Feel that? It’s called web hosting that isn’t shitty. We’re fully settled into our new virtual digs now, after months of subpar performance, and I’m wigging out a little bit, frankly. I can’t even remember when the site used to load this quickly, so inured was I to mediocrity. But with some TLC and a modest infusion of cash, everything old is new again, and with any luck, we’ll be able to forget about these behind-the-scenes concerns for a while.

My Swedish chariot underwent a similar Renaissance today. It’s had its streak of woe, and in a strange twist of fate, I have a second cousin once removed in Dallas who happens to be an auto mechanic. Here, I surmised, was a perfect opportunity to support local business, grant my car a new lease on life, and keep a few bucks within the clan. And then I saw the loaner.

I later learned it was his grandmother-in-law’s sedan, but when I first saw it, a wholly different narrative formed in my mind. Buick Skylark, circa mid ’80s. Michigan plate adorned with stickers from 2010. Half a dozen rust spots. Trunk seams bursting with dried leaves. 130,000 miles, sounded like a tank, and there was a container of Prestone perched cryptically on the back seat. To passersby, I probably looked like I had just come from an AA meeting or a bingo session, fresh from robbing them both.

The reality was far more mundane, of course–it’s a frickin’ loaner, after all, salvaged from a kindly old woman–and the revelation came instead from the Saab. When I fired it up, saw the headlights actually illuminating again, fuel gauge sprung to life, CV axles tested, and overall health deemed strong, I felt disbelief, then a pang of guilt for having entertained thoughts of trading it in for a 3-series. It’s accompanied me through so many states, ordeals, and memories, and I can’t bring it out to pasture just yet.