Well, for those of you who keep abreast of my life here in the southwest, you will know that my beloved husband tried to ford a gully (no pun intended) with our 2002 Ford Focus during a bad storm last Sunday, and he killed the car. Yes, killed it dead. Now for those of you who have lived here in the Southwest, you may be thinking something like this: How stupid can you get? Everyone knows better than to drive through those arroyos (gullys, ditches, washes, whatever) during storms. If a cop catches you stranded in one, he issues you a citation that is actually called a “stupid driver citation” and charges you $50 or so for it. There is nearly always a sign that says “Caution: flooding” before you drive in, and plus, who willingly drives through a canal? In spite of all this, I have to come to poor Marti’s defense. Firstly, this arroyo is barely a dip in the road to the east of our house, and it is never full. The arroyo behind our house and the one up the road to the north (Arroyo Chico) both have warnings and deserve them: they are swirling eddies of death during storms. But the place where the arroyo crosses our street is usually very shallow. It doesn’t even have one of those “flooding” signs. Secondly, as you may have guessed from my description of the arroyos around our house, Marti was effectively boxed in, and thirdly, he was trying to get his kid brother on a flight to Texas and could not wait until the storm quit. He had already crossed the thing twice, and how was he to know that the third time would be the charm? So he tried to cross with the car, the car quit, and they both had to trudge back to the house carrying luggage (and kid brother had to go soaked with arroyo water to catch a plane — not fun). Well, so he took our little Toyota pickup, which is only slightly better in storms than our car, and kid brother did make it to the airport okay (where Marti waited until the storm quit and water went down before coming back). This meant I had to save the car, as he had no time. I waded out to our car, in my black dress, and tried to get myself sucked down the arroyo since the water was way stronger than it looked and was up to my hips and full of trash and limbs and such. I got to the car okay, but could do nothing — really nothing, because I couldn’t start the car and the water was by that time too swift for me to make it back. And the car was bobbing, thinking of going down the drain but now with me in it. However, a kind neighbor who drove the kind of vehicle I curse at and accuse of causing global warming mercifully hooked a tow line to my gently bobbing vehicle and pulled it out before it and myself went bye-bye down the wash. May I never curse rednecks who drive jacked-up trucks again (and yet you all know I will). But bless that neighbor’s heart, he probably saved my life.
So what’s a Volvo got to do with all this? Sounds like a Ford problem.
Well, when I say Marti killed the car dead, I mean he really killed the car dead. We drained the engine and put fresh oil in before starting the car (attempting, anyway) but it did no good — the car just clicked at us. We let it sit for a couple of days to dry out but this did nothing either. Turns out the car had sucked water into the engine and killed itself right there in the wash, without us realizing it, and said engine is now fused together in one happy rust heaven and will never roam o’er desert sands (or waters) again.
*Sigh*
So, what with extensive water damage to the inside, the need for a new engine, the very probable failure of the transmission, alternator, etc., the bent radiator structure (from towing with a stuck and rusted back wheel), the need to drain and re-lube the transaxle and back end, we figured our Ford was totaled. Well, the insurance adjuster (read: idiot) disagreed, and felt that $2800 would cover the damages. So we are officially getting a second opinion and may need a third. Meanwhile, the car rusts on. The first mechanic vacuumed 3/4 gallon of water out of the intake manifold. Bad, bad, bad.
So what’s a family to do? I decided that I was tired of the Focus and don’t want it back even if they fix it, and that led us to search the paper for a new possibility. I found one, a little sooner than I’d planned, but it was a good, solid car that was well cared for and, more importantly, $1000 under blue book. It was a white, 1990 Volvo station wagon, and it now rests in our driveway. I am still a little stunned; I mean, not even my parents drove a station wagon. Marti came back from running errands and thought someone was visiting, even though he was the one that actually bought the car. But we are slowly adjusting. I love the tinted windows, the power everything, and the comfy seats. I love how it floats down the road, like a boat sailing on the wind. And it was cheap. If everything comes through, we won’t even have a car payment anymore.
Marti always manages to land on his feet, and this time he landed with his feet in a Volvo. Let’s hope it performs better than our Ford. Pictures to come, and meanwhile…I’ll be sailing. Hopefully not through any more arroyos.
