Zoom Zoom Zoom...Maybe

I have been seriously thinking about selling my car. Sadly, I cannot claim that these thoughts stem from a desire to reduce my personal contribution to global warming, or concerns about peak oil, or even a sincere wish to represent "one less car" in the cramped lanes of Portland's roadways. Not-shockingly, my motives for considering dispensing with my daily driver are purely selfish or--at the very least--not admirable.

Why I Want to Sell My Car
1. I don't drive it very often and when I do I incur monstrous fines for really stupid shit.
2. Driving in the city makes me an angry, petty person who enjoys life exponentially less than walking, biking, or even sitting across from smelly weirdos on public transportation.
3. My car used to be beautiful and now it is beaten up and dirty and I don't want to fix it or clean it.

The car in question is a sporty little 5-speed Mazda station wagon. I bought it new in 2002 when I was young and thought that making $32,000 meant that I was rich, and that buying a new car was a great idea because it was red. I had seen this new model at the Mazda dealership in my neighborhood, and it was love at first sight. My heart was never fuller than when driving my friends around with the sunroof open, arms hanging out windows, blasting The B-52s or The Roots, rocking our way from parties to bars to swimming holes. I slept in it. I drove it across the country. I encountered my first bona fide sexual predator when it blew a tire on the side of I80 (and escaped unharmed). This car was a huge part of my identity for a long time. It represented adulthood and freedom. Plus its beauty and newness satisfied some un-admitted-to shallowness on my part without making me seem like too much of a materialistic asshole.

Fast-forward several years and the story starts to get (even more) embarrassing. My red car was trucking though life, doing her job, getting me from here to there like the reliable little Japanese engine-that-could she was designed to be. But I didn't get that thrill when I looked at her any more. Her paint was chipped and faded. Her side was scratched (by this weird moving pillar that appeared out of nowhere from the shadows of a haunted parking garage). I knew it was wrong, that I should attend to her scratches, get her detailed, maybe buy her a news stereo...but my eye began to wander. Then, through a series of strange and unfortunate events (and perhaps a few mini strokes) I became two-car family-of-one when I purchased a black 1978 Jaguar XJS. The story of how I came to own this notoriously dysfunctional car is a topic for another post, but the short version of the story is that someone (who definitely had my best interest at heart) told me not to buy it. So I did. In unrelated news, Oppositional Defiant Disorder is typically only diagnosed in juveniles, but the DSM V isn't the boss of me, so whatever.

So here I am, the owner of two cars, one of which runs great but is suffering some cosmetic damage, the other of which is so gorgeous that people stop and stare and smile when they see it...but it barely runs. Having just written that sentence, I am suddenly gripped by intense concern for my own ability to think logically or make rational decisions, since the entire theme of this post is getting rid of the reliable, working car and keeping the money-pit lemon that gets 9 miles to the gallon. On the highway. Remember why my blog is called Neuro Crash Girl? Yeah, that's not just me trying to be cute. 

Anyway, being a shallow weirdo with no common sense it only part of the story. Since moving to Portland, my love of driving has completely disappeared. I have gotten a speeding ticket (to the tune of $280 dollars), a parking ticket for not having a permit (that I actually did have, but just didn't have displayed - $60), and a photo-bot ticket for running a red light ($260). Plus my car got broken into requiring me to replace not only the window ($150) and the stereo (free--thanks Kara!--plus $60 in labor for installation). That's a fuckload of money that I don't have to spend on a car that I drive maybe once a week that is definitely going to need some serious maintenance soon. Plus, when I drive I realize how stupid people are and how much I want to punch their faces. And sometimes that feeling doesn't go away, and I feel the minutes of my life ticking away in anger which is not how I'd like to spend my time.

Soooo, should I keep both cars? Sell both? Keep one but not the other? I like the idea of having a classic car that makes driving an every-once-in-a-while, special occasion event (especially if it only runs every once in a while). If I need to leave town I can use Zip Car or take the train. And, if I sold my Mazda, I could use the money to buy a super-pretty brand new bike that I'm sure I would always love and never mistreat or neglect or grow tired of.

And if I sold my Mazda and felt trapped and isolated and impotent and worthless and all the other things I worry about feeling if I made such a bold move, I could always buy one of those sporty new Volvo station wagons like the ones at the dealership down the street from my house. Like maybe the blue one.

Tell Me Something Good

Okay, loyal fans. You've been toyed with long enough. The truth is....(what is the truth? shit...why would I ever start a sentence with the phrase "the truth is"? That is just asking to be called out on your disingenuous bullshit. GODDAMMIT. Okay, okay, still time to recover....everyone likes the truth...right?). So, as I was casually saying, the truth is that I may not be totally up to the task of writing a very well-constructed blog focussing on a single theme every month of my life. Or every two months of my life...or three...or, well, whatever.

So, Neuro Crash Girl is going to experience a bit of a metamorphosis. I know that after reading SIX WHOLE POSTS followed by months of silence it is going to be a huge adjustment for you. Fear not, loyal readers, for NCG would never subject you to this fate unless she had faith that you were entirely up for the task of altering your reading strategies to accommodate her writing whims. Hopefully, the whole experience will result in a lot more interaction and fun for both of us. Things may be a bit more casual, a bit more mundane and less story-like, but I think that's what needs to happen. Blogs need air to survive, and this one was on its death bed. Time to blow this fucker up.

Oh....and there might be more profanity too.

xoxo
~NCG