The Driving Pit

My Pontiac Grand Am is eight years old.  It’s not a fossil by any means, but it is getting old.  It’s been a great car, until this year.  I’ve loved driving it and it’s run like a champ.  However, the time is coming to consider turning it in.

It’s a bummer, because I’ve really enjoyed the car and it’s been trouble-free.  The last six months, I’ve poured too much money into repairs.  It stinks.

First, it was the metal piece that supports the front tires and steering column that rusted out.  It was really bizarre, since the rest of the frame was rust-free.  This part, however, was completely rusted through on one side and almost rust through on the other side.

The mechanic was able to find a used part to replace it but it still set me back a few hundred dollars.  Next, the battery crapped out, which was another hundred plus dollars to replace.

The last straw was this week.  I started noticing a raw gas smell inside my car.  At first, I blew it off, thinking it was exhaust or maybe I spilled gas on my shoes or gloves  which stunk up the car. However, when I was smelling it every time I was in the car I started to think it’s more serious issue.

I took the car to my mechanic and he was unable to find the source of the smell which was not what I wanted to hear.  It’s frustrating driving a car with the windows rolled down and feeling nauseous afterwards.  To then hear he doesn’t know how to fix it was beyond frustrating.

I can’t exactly afford a new car, but I also can’t afford to have the fumes affect my daughter’s health or heaven forbid, cause a fire.  It’s not worth it.  So, this weekend I’ll begrudgingly go car shopping with my 6 foot 5 inch co-worker, hoping not to look like a piece of fresh meat and possibly get a decent deal.  Merry Christmas to me!