_____
I'm upset. I've been losing sleep, and don't feel like eating.
While I try to remind myself that it's just a thing, and that it's immature to get so emotional over the potential loss of a physical object, a big part of me says "Bullshit!"
We become attached to things. Some of them can come to represent much more than the sum of their parts. A vehicle, for example, is by definition something that takes you somewhere -- and that's not always a physical destination.
I have a car that doesn't run. It hasn't, in fact, run for years. Parked on the street, it has finally come to the attention of a certain member of the local police department that its registration has long since expired -- and today, unless something can be done, it is to be towed.
Others would have gotten rid of such a thing shortly after it was evident how difficult it would be to get it moving again. Others, however, have no clue about how that car moves me even as it sits.
When I got it, it was the first car I'd owned all by myself for about a decade. Never mind 'community property' -- it was my idea to get it, and it's titled in my name. When you share a house with a spouse and three children, there is great value in having something large enough to sit in, that you can call your own. Beyond that, of course, there has always been the promise of one day getting it running again -- or better still, converting it into an electric vehicle.
A large red-orange sticker was affixed to its rear window Saturday morning, with a hand-written notice at the bottom that it was to be towed "Monday, March 21st 2008" -- a date which, strictly speaking, does not exist. It's a simple typo, and the officer obviously meant today, the 31st...
...but it also has a number to call if you have questions. I've called, and been told to call back during regular business hours -- which I have done, and left a voicemail.
The first question that springs to mind is, "How can I possibly get my registration renewed over the weekend, to bring this car into compliance?"
It was late in the afternoon when the officer finally showed up, and WITHOUT a tow truck, um, in tow. He turned out to be very reasonable, giving me until noon on Thursday to get the car registered (while gently reminding me that our daily driver's registration is also about to expire). Of course a prerequisite for registration is insurance...
Pet peeve time. I can't believe the number of people who mispronounce that word. Somehow they manage to put the emphasis on the proper syllable with 'insured', but...
Anyway, insurance is something I've learned to live without for most of the year -- if only because there are times when one must choose which bills are most important. While it's a compulsory, legal requirement, I won't be convinced it's lawful for the State to require anyone to take out a policy with a private company. Now, if one could only manage to gain some kind of equity in an automotive insurance policy, I might feel better about it. Why shouldn't a portion of MY money accumulate until all I will have to pay for a certain level of insurance is a basic fee?
I have never been the cause of an insurance payout.
Accidents can be prevented, and/or avoided. I have many hundreds of thousands of miles behind me, and I always take the task of driving very seriously. You might think I'd be extra careful during those months I drive uninsured, but no. Am I just used to it? Maybe, but I really really don't want to hit anyone or anything, or be hit by anyone else. There are some incredibly bad drivers out there -- you just have to keep a constant vigil.
I've wandered off-topic...
This afternoon, for a while, the very thought of losing that car actually brought a bit of serenity. I thought maybe, if I could just let it go, something better would come along in my life to fill the gap...
Not long after, of course, I no longer had to concern myself with the possibility of such an event. As absurd as it may seem to insure and register a car that doesn't even run, I don't want to have to move it -- and as the officer explained, as long as it's registered it can sit there on the street indefinitely.
The automobile in question is the 1981 Toyota Cressida that I traded a six-pack of Guinness for in late 2004. I have nicknamed it The Defiant both in honour of the cloaked Federation warship on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and for my own determination to keep it, even though it hasn't run since December 2004.
I remain defiant, and the Cressida remains in my possession.
Phil Smith
April 1, 2008
_____While I try to remind myself that it's just a thing, and that it's immature to get so emotional over the potential loss of a physical object, a big part of me says "Bullshit!"
We become attached to things. Some of them can come to represent much more than the sum of their parts. A vehicle, for example, is by definition something that takes you somewhere -- and that's not always a physical destination.
I have a car that doesn't run. It hasn't, in fact, run for years. Parked on the street, it has finally come to the attention of a certain member of the local police department that its registration has long since expired -- and today, unless something can be done, it is to be towed.
Others would have gotten rid of such a thing shortly after it was evident how difficult it would be to get it moving again. Others, however, have no clue about how that car moves me even as it sits.
When I got it, it was the first car I'd owned all by myself for about a decade. Never mind 'community property' -- it was my idea to get it, and it's titled in my name. When you share a house with a spouse and three children, there is great value in having something large enough to sit in, that you can call your own. Beyond that, of course, there has always been the promise of one day getting it running again -- or better still, converting it into an electric vehicle.
A large red-orange sticker was affixed to its rear window Saturday morning, with a hand-written notice at the bottom that it was to be towed "Monday, March 21st 2008" -- a date which, strictly speaking, does not exist. It's a simple typo, and the officer obviously meant today, the 31st...
...but it also has a number to call if you have questions. I've called, and been told to call back during regular business hours -- which I have done, and left a voicemail.
The first question that springs to mind is, "How can I possibly get my registration renewed over the weekend, to bring this car into compliance?"
\\\ cut to over 14 hours later \\\
It was late in the afternoon when the officer finally showed up, and WITHOUT a tow truck, um, in tow. He turned out to be very reasonable, giving me until noon on Thursday to get the car registered (while gently reminding me that our daily driver's registration is also about to expire). Of course a prerequisite for registration is insurance...
Pet peeve time. I can't believe the number of people who mispronounce that word. Somehow they manage to put the emphasis on the proper syllable with 'insured', but...
Anyway, insurance is something I've learned to live without for most of the year -- if only because there are times when one must choose which bills are most important. While it's a compulsory, legal requirement, I won't be convinced it's lawful for the State to require anyone to take out a policy with a private company. Now, if one could only manage to gain some kind of equity in an automotive insurance policy, I might feel better about it. Why shouldn't a portion of MY money accumulate until all I will have to pay for a certain level of insurance is a basic fee?
I have never been the cause of an insurance payout.
Accidents can be prevented, and/or avoided. I have many hundreds of thousands of miles behind me, and I always take the task of driving very seriously. You might think I'd be extra careful during those months I drive uninsured, but no. Am I just used to it? Maybe, but I really really don't want to hit anyone or anything, or be hit by anyone else. There are some incredibly bad drivers out there -- you just have to keep a constant vigil.
I've wandered off-topic...
This afternoon, for a while, the very thought of losing that car actually brought a bit of serenity. I thought maybe, if I could just let it go, something better would come along in my life to fill the gap...
Not long after, of course, I no longer had to concern myself with the possibility of such an event. As absurd as it may seem to insure and register a car that doesn't even run, I don't want to have to move it -- and as the officer explained, as long as it's registered it can sit there on the street indefinitely.
The automobile in question is the 1981 Toyota Cressida that I traded a six-pack of Guinness for in late 2004. I have nicknamed it The Defiant both in honour of the cloaked Federation warship on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and for my own determination to keep it, even though it hasn't run since December 2004.
I remain defiant, and the Cressida remains in my possession.
Phil Smith
April 1, 2008
