To The Metal

That’s how I remember this truck. Man it was great. Every single option box checked.

You’ll recall how the first new vehicle I ever wanted to buy was a Chevy S10 back in 1998. That truck was also fully loaded and $20k. Things have come a long way in 22 years. That same truck would probably run near $40k today. The price of trucks is ridiculous, isn’t it? These things are where the major automakers rake in the most profit after all. Trucks fund R&D. Trucks allow them to approach other market segments at tighter margins. Trucks allow them to build the efficient cars that lower their average fuel efficiency ratings and build bigger trucks. They market trucks as the American dream.

I’ve always liked trucks, I’ve always wanted a truck, and when I needed a break from the raw performance and horrendous transmission of my Golf R, there was only one route to take. What to pick though? I had absolutely zero brand loyalty. My only restriction? No Dodges. Ram’s looked great, but after my experiences with Dodge vehicles, and seeing enough of them rotting away out from under their owners… I took a hard pass on Dodge.

So I figured I would check Chevy and Ford first. I visited Leo Kaytes in Warwick (Yes, same dealer my Dad sued) and walked the lot for a good 45 minutes. I looked at every truck in my price range, noting the ones that met my requirements – 4×4, heated seats, premium stereo. After 45 minutes of going from truck to truck and not a single salesperson walked out to greet me – I left.

Next stop? Healey Chevrolet. After Country was forced to close (YAY!) it was my only local option. I’d always been partial to Chevy, so I was already leaning in that direction. Again – a solid 45 minutes in the lot. Spotted trucks with the colors and options I wanted, decided which I’d like to try out… Not a single salesperson could be bothered to come outside. Were they all busy making sales? Who knows.

By this point, I had nearly given up but there was one more American option – GMC. I took a ride down to Royal GMC in Sussex, NJ and walked the lot. Within 15 minutes, a salesman came out to offer his help. I test drove a Silverado (same model I have today), test drove a Sierra (not the one I bought), and while it wasn’t a color I was super kean on, I decided to head into the dealership to crunch numbers. I wanted the truck, but I didn’t WANT the truck yet.

We head inside, run some numbers, everything looks good. I head back out with the salesman to check something on it, then on my way back in I see this…

Now the truck I first looked at checked every box. Up until then, I was following my own advice. That truck even had a solid $10k in discounts applied to it. Then I saw this one. Silver. Oof. Dopamine and Serotonin flooded my brain. Halfway through our conversation on the black Sierra, “What about that silver one we just walked past?” Well, no discounts. Extra accessories. Price was $10k higher than the other one.

Sitting down? Monthly payment with my trade-in was $780. Folks, if you aren’t comfortable with the payment you have 2 options. Pay more down, or walk away. Unless you are brand faithful and want a new ride every 2-3 years, don’t lease it. I wanted the truck, I didn’t like the payment, so I leased it. 12k miles a year for a 36 month lease. Payment was now $580, a tick higher than the Golf R. Dopamine. I paid for GAP insurance. Serotonin. I agreed to pay $450 if I didn’t buy the truck or lease a new GMC at the end.

All in all, I could afford it, and planned on buying it at the end of the lease, but this is my 3rd vehicle in 3 years. My current commute involved a 10 minute drive to and from the park and ride, so mileage wasn’t an issue. The parking sensors made it a breeze to park anywhere. Gas mileage was about 23mpg on average. I could control it from my phone. It was great. Honestly, I have absolutely zero complaints about this truck. Had my commute not changed, I’d likely still have it. That’s what happened though. I got a new job, and my two main options were a public parking lot 45 minutes away, or a parking garage the same distance where it was a royal pain to park such a large vehicle.

I decided to get a commuter (that’ll be the next post) and just drive the truck on the weekends. But wait, there’s more. Instead of staying on the lease and getting a commuter, I terminated the lease, and bought the truck (because my mileage was increasing faster than my allotment). When I terminated the lease on my first VW, I called VW, they refinanced the car over the phone and I was good. When I did the same with the GMC, I got a crappy interest rate, paid for gap insurance AGAIN, and oh yeah – had to pay tax on it again. I should have just kept the lease and returned the truck.

Instead, I was now making double payments on the GMC, and driving a new Honda most of the time. I found myself paying upwards of $1500/m on the truck and only adding 300 miles to the odometer per month. Finally one day I had a moment of God given clarity and decided to sell it. Within a week it was gone to a new home, and I was only left with paying for my 2018 Civic Si.

Now while I made decisions I regretted in purchasing the truck, and leasing the truck, and breaking the lease on the truck – that thing was great. Comfortable, great mpg for a truck, plenty of power, plenty of utility – it wouldn’t be my last truck that’s for sure. I simply couldn’t justify spending what I was spending on something I didn’t use enough. I’m glad I made the mistakes I did though, because after 22 years of driving I finally saw the light.

I finally took my own advice… and I bought my first Honda (that didn’t have a cutting deck).

I’d mentioned earlier in this series how my favorite car to date was my 2005 Volkswagen GTI. The car was just plain fun, I had a lot of great memories with it, and of all the vehicles I’ve owned in the past 24 years, It stayed in my driveway the longest – 6 years.

My job situation changed. After fighting the idea of working in New York City for YEARS, I finally caved and took a great job in midtown with a great team of people. I was learning again, I was earning again, and for the first time in 6 years – I was completely and utterly debt free.

What ever was I to do?

I absolutely loved this thing from the first moment I sat in it. As the glow of my Subaru’s check engine light began to fade, I sauntered into Jack Daniels Volkswagen. Originally, I had planned on a white Golf R with the DSG (dual-clutch automatic transmission) and a few other fancy features. Again – I ignored my own advice as I laid out in my post about car buying.

What I wound up with was the base model Golf R. All wheel drive, 292 HP, 6-speed manual, leather interior, heated seats, etc… etc… etc… The only options I didn’t have were the parking sensors, adjustable suspension, DSG, and premium stereo. Otherwise, it clicked off every box. Had I heeded my own advice though and walked away, or waited for another DSG model, I’d probably still be driving it.

I loved this thing. LOVED IT. I’d never driven anything with such handling, such power. It took everything I loved about my 2005 GTI and turned it up to 11. Heck, one of the coolest things about it was that turning the steering wheel turned the headlights. I’d never seen things like this before in a car.

Every curve I came to, I threw the car into it faster and faster. There was no end to the available grip and traction. Turns were flat and firm. Acceleration was explosive with minimal lag. Tack on it being a roomy 4-door that got decent gas mileage, this car was nothing but win.

The only problem the car had from my POV was a programming defect. It had a backup camera that intermittently worked. On cars that had the parking sensors, it worked every time, but without them – half the time I put the car in reverse it wouldn’t start. Not a huge deal, a minor annoyance really.

The thing is… I’d never driven anything like this before. My primitive teenage driver mind returned. Where I’d mellowed over years of driving that Subaru and Chrysler, a switch got flipped. Every corner? Full speed. Every red light challenge? Adios! I felt like a kid again. It was great…until.

I was headed to work one morning, and somebody came flying up the onramp. I went to give it some gas so they would have room to merge behind me… Not enough acceleration in 5th gear. I went to shift from 5th to 4th when it happened. I lifted the clutch, the transmission and the engine synced up, the RPM’s rapidly climbed, and the car began to rapidly slow.

I missed a shift.

I’ve never missed a shift before. I’d driven several manual transmission cars over the years and this literally never happened before. I quickly depressed the clutch and shifted back to a higher gear. No lights. No noises. No smoke. The car seemed OK. All day at work I feared getting back to my car and seeing a puddle of oil underneath it… yet I got back to the car and it was fine.

One thing I will say, something I noticed, is that the gating on this car’s transmission was sloppy. Compared to my ’05 GTI, compared to my ’01 Neon, compared to my father’s 94 Ranger. While the car was in gear, that shifter could move around quite a bit. Going from gear to gear, I was no longer sure that it would quietly slide into the correct gear.

On my way home, weeks later, I was behind a slow moving BMW. They were doing 35 in a 55. I pulled out to pass, downshifting to 3rd. After the pass, I went to upshift from 3rd to 4th. I went from 3rd to 2nd. RPM’s climbed. The car slowed. I corrected the missed shift, but it was too late. Lights were blinking. The engine was running, but the power was gone.

I got it home, turned it off, sat for a minute, then started it. It started right up but it sounded different. All the lights were blinking. Was it limp home mode? That’s when a car will shut down certain systems in order to avoid a bigger problem. I cleared the computer and started it back up, same thing. Same errors. Crap. The money shift.

The money shift is a term nobody wants to use. You miss a shift, and spend money to fix it. Worst case scenario here, $7k to install a new engine. Best case, through some miracle, warranty covers it. I call up the dealer, report the problem, and they send a flatbed. I kept my mouth shut about the shift. All I said was the lights came on while I was passing.

The guys on the VWVortex board were relentless. Maybe 1 or 2 members felt bad for me, the rest decided I simply didn’t know how to shift properly, or drive a manual. I kept the details minimal as there was no secret that dealers would watch this message board for guys proudly voiding their warranty. There was even a specific error in the VW computer system for what I did. “MECHANICAL OVERREV – WARRANTY VOID”

Service advisor calls. The engine appears ok, but the rocker arms for the intake valves on cylinders 1 and 4 were no longer on the valves. They were going to have to strip the engine down, replace the broken parts, verify everything was back to OEM spec. He asks me “any chance you missed a shift here?”

I don’t like to lie. Ever. In my youth, my ability to lie well got me out of many tight situations. As an adult, lying requires that you remember the lie lest you be found out. Mark Twain apparently said it best: “If you tell truth you don’t have to remember anything.” I’ve done my best to live by those words.

I began to stutter. A split second before I admitted the truth, that miracle came through, as the service advisor said 2 words… “Say no.”

They had the car for a week. I didn’t bug them once. The repair was covered by the warranty. I went online and researched how to properly shift, how to avoid this. Aluminum shifter bushings. Check. Guide the shifter, don’t grip it and pull. Check.

When I got the car back, I babied it. It took a solid month before I chanced opening up the taps again. When I did, no missed shift. Everything worked. The relief washed over me like a flood… until two weeks later when even using my more relaxed and community approved shifting style, I missed the 3 to 4 shift again. This time I caught it RAPIDLY. The RPM’s never hit the danger zone, but something was definitely wrong.

I went back to babying it, and looked online for the shifter bushings… but by that time the joy of owning this car was gone. I was afraid that I’d either drive it off the road and kill myself with it, or that I’d money shift it again. One day I’m at the gas station, filling up, and checking the oil (which is a good habit to have in general, but these cars burn a quart every 2-3 thousand miles) when I saw it.

A slight glimmer of shiny metal on the dipstick. Sparkles are wonderful things. On a dipstick? Bad. On the dipstick of a car with 15k miles that you’ve money-shifted? Forget it. To this day I say it, had I taken my own advice and opted for the DSG, I’d still be driving that car. It was truly a feat of engineering and the most fun I’ve had behind the wheel.

I needed a break. I needed to take a step back from the speed demon in me and get something responsible. Something fun. A vehicle I was proud to own, proud to drive, and was most of all useful. That’s why I bought my 2017 GMC Sierra. It wasn’t my first choice though…

Going to keep this short and sweet. Through a confluence of events I’ve hinted at through the ownership of my ’89 Chevy and ’09 Subaru… I wound up owning a 2001 Chrysler PT Cruiser for a short time.

For all the grief this vehicle got, it was one of the best selling and most reliable Chrysler’s ever built. DaimlerChrysler milked this thing for all it was worth. It had plenty of storage space, adequate power, and handled like a Neon (read: not awful).

Even without regular maintenance until I took over caring for it, the thing started every time we turned the key. At around 120k, I installed a new timing belt, water pump, plugs, wires, valve cover gasket, etc… Oil changes, transmission services, regular maintenance the car just worked.

The only defects I hit towards the end of its life – the A/C condenser failed, the ABS failed due to some sort of ring falling off the CV joint, and one of the rear brake mounts snapped because someone (me) attempted a J-Turn.

More than once I found myself pulling all the seats out to stuff an obscene amount of cargo into it…. Would I have bought one on my own? Probably not. For a small family with limited funds though? You couldn’t ask for something better or more affordable at the time.

After several years riding and fixing my Vulcan 500, I was venting about it online when a friend pointed out that financing a new bike would cost less than my cell phone bill. I started doing some research on what was out there, and decided on the Vulcan 900 Custom. The 2014’s were on sale at the time, so I took a run up to Middletown and visited Cycle Motion.

Now at this point, I believe the stator had burned out again on the 500, parts of its engine were scattered over my coffee table (not the first or last time I’ve taken a motor apart in my living room). I wasn’t drawn to anything America built (Harley made some great looking bikes, but I couldn’t afford them) so I stuck with what I knew. There were no 2014’s on the lot, but there was in fact a “brand new” 2012.

I was a fan of the cruiser style (blame my brother), this had more power, and to me just looked cool. I learned quickly that it didn’t handle as well as my old bike, it couldn’t lean over as far, and the seat was unbearable after 45 minutes of riding, but overall it was a good, comfortable ride and got 50mpg.

Now I mentioned the seat, and over the years I’ve tried different seats, seat beads, etc… I even invested in the factory Kawasaki gel seat. It looked great, but not only did my back hurt more, so did my legs as it placed me lower in the saddle. I may or may not invest $400 in a seat from Mustang (very highly rated) the jury is still out on that one.

Like my previous bike, I performed some modifications on this one. Vance & Hines Exhaust, a K&N air filter, and I think it was called a “fuel pak” from V&H. A side effect of opening up the intake/exhaust on this bike is that the stock computer simply can’t compensate. As a result, the bike may run too lean, or it may run too rich and backfire excessively. This tool makes up for that failing.

All in all, the bolt ons took me an hour to install. The exhaust I will say – was deafening. After a half hour of riding, my ears would be ringing… I figured it would be a good idea to get the new silencers for it. They preserve the exhaust note, but bring it down from ear bleeding levels to something more manageable. I picked them up maybe… 5 years ago? Still on a shelf in my garage.

The installation video made it look so easy. Remove the old silencer (basically a formed pipe in the exhaust tube) by simply removing a screw and sliding it out. No, you need a slide hammer. Even then, it’s an effort to remove. Then installing the new one. Oh boy. The video from V&H? Slides right in like a knife through butter. In reality, the fiberglass insulation gets bunched up and the inserts won’t budge without magic.

Two things conspired against me 5 years ago that nearly put me off of riding altogether. When work brought me to NYC in 2015, the amount I rode my bike dropped drastically. Previously if the road was dry and the weather above 50, I’d commute on it. The idea of leaving it at a train station instead of an office 10 minutes away bugged me. Tack on the overall increase of my commute from 20 minutes round trip to over 4 hours round trip… the bike sat in my garage. Some summers, I took it out twice.

The other thing, summer of 2015. I had my first motorcycle accident. I fared MUCH better than most when they say “motorcycle accident.”

I’d stopped at a crosswalk on Main Street in Warwick, NY to let some pedestrians cross… I glanced in my sideview as I always do and saw a red Ford Taurus coming up from behind. It didn’t stop.

The hit threw me forward, my rear fender and tire taking the brunt of it. The driver was a kid, probably messing with his phone instead of paying attention. He begged me not to call the police. This bike, I bought it to cheer myself up after my divorce. It was one of the few things in my life at that time which brought me any semblance of joy. He broke it by being careless, and expected mercy. No. Freaking. Way.

The repair cost about $500 and took a week or two, the parts came pre-painted from Kawasaki. Physically I was fine, but mentally – mentally I was scared to death of getting back on that bike. Any rides I took after that were short and not too far from home. I always considered myself a safe and observant rider. Didn’t help that 2 weeks prior apparently the town Police chief was hit at the same spot. I was done riding like I used to.

Come 2019, I decided to pay off the bike so I could sell it. My plan was to clean it up in the spring after a particularly wet and cold winter. Ever since the accident I really didn’t enjoy it anymore, and it was wasting away in my garage.

I cracked open my garage on that first warm day of Spring and she wouldn’t fire up. Then I noticed that corrosion had started to sprout up on the engine, the frame, the wheels. Guessing parking a snow blower next to it, letting the snow melt off, evaporate, etc… cranked up the humidity enough that nature started to take its course on the metal.

Off to Auto zone I went, picked up a new battery and some stuff to clean up the bike. Didn’t take long until she was purring again and looked as good as she ran. Funny thing happened. Bike was idling, so I went inside, grabbed my helmet, put on my gear, and took it out. For a few hours. First time I’d really ridden it in years and it was fantastic!

Part of me is still considering selling the bike once the weather warms up. Maybe gone for good, maybe get something else. Maybe I’ll fire it up on that first warm day of Spring and forget about my problems for a while, who knows.

That’s the thing with me and riding a motorcycle. When I’m out there on the road, one with the elements, the sound of the engine, the feel of the wind, the smell of the air… I’m at peace. I’m not thinking of anything other than right, left, or onward. Life is simpler. Life is slower. I can speak, shout, sing, or pray, and whatever is said is between God, myself, and my steel. I find peace on the road that I rarely find anywhere else in life.

Up next, my first real 4 wheeled adult toy… my 2016 Volkswagen Golf R.

Easy, hand the seller money, and you will buy their car.

Of course, that’s how people end up with 10% interest rates and pile up car upon car to an ever expanding bank note that if they’re lucky they may live to pay off.

First I will tell you, like my father told me, that 99% of the time repairs cost less than payments. Unless your car just blew up in a parking lot, do you actually NEED a new car? If this is a WANT and not a NEED, that is to your advantage.

For sake of transparency, I paid MSRP for my current car. I also made a down payment equal to 1/4 of the sale, and did most of my negotiating on the value of my trade-in and fending off accessories, offers, and add-ons. I didn’t need my current car. I walked out of the dealership the first time I sat in it, and was ready to walk out again if my exact requirements were not met.

Here are my 7 steps for buying a car, it’s worked for me every time I’ve stuck to it.

1. Before you even walk into the dealership you need to do two things. First? Make sure you can afford it. You may have cash on hand, you may be able to swing the payments, but you will also be cutting into your monthly net income for several years. Can you afford to be without that payment cash? There are dozens of good online calculators to work the numbers. Don’t forget an accurate interest rate, tax, tags, etc… when calculating.
2. Get an out the door quote from the dealership. If they won’t provide one, walk. An out the door quote is the total price of the car you plan to buy including taxes, tags, registration, etc… and get it itemized. You’d be amazed what dealers can try to throw into the pot to sweeten the deal (for them). Don’t be afraid to say NO to add-ons at this point, if they’re smart they will save those for later.
3. If when you see that car for the first time, the endorphines, dopamine, etc… will flood your brain. If you get that overwhelming desire to buy it right then and now, do yourself a a favor and LEAVE. It’s like when you go grocery shopping while hungry and buy a ton of food you don’t need… only this is a car and instead of a feeling of regret as you hit the bottom of that pint of Phish Food, you’ll have that regret every time you look in your driveway… for up to 72 months.
4. Know exactly what you want when you walk into that dealership, and be fully prepared to get up and leave if you don’t get precisely what you want. With my most recent purchase, they tried to offer me about $180 worth of oil changes (3 years) in lieu of increasing the trade-in offer on my car by $1000. I didn’t bend, and I would have walked. I got my $1000. It might seem petty but the secret to any good negotiation is a fair redistribution of getting screwed between both parties. If they want to sell you that car, they’ll negotiate. If they don’t, they’ll kick you out.
5. Keep the trade in and new car negotiations separate. Many dealerships still break out that 4 square sheet to illustrate costs, payments, etc… 99% of the time that is a tool to distract you from what you’re going to pay for your new car, and what they plan on giving you for your old car. Once you’re at a satisfactory price for the new car? Negotiate your trade in. The dealer may just give you book value, or more than you planned on getting (it happens). If they low-ball you, don’t be afraid to get what you want within reason. For my Civic Si, in its condition with its mileage, every single estimate I got was for $19,000 on the trade in. Dealer offered $17,000. This is when being reasonable comes into play. Could I get $19K? Sure. Did I honestly feel like investing myself into the process that much? No. I asked for $18k and after 3 back and forths, got my $18k.
6. Addons and accessories. Just. Say. No. Don’t buy a 7 year, 80k mile service contract when you haven’t even put a mile on the car yet. Shop around. Regardless of what the finance manager tells you, most of these at point of sale will have at minimum 100% markup. See if there’s an enthusiast site for your car with forums, chances are they know who has the best deal on a manufacturer service contract and trust me – that business will be happy to sell you one at a very steep discount.
7. Lastly, financing. I’ve always heard that the best thing to do is get quotes from your bank before walking in the door. That’s fine, but I prefer to make the dealership work for me. Usually they can get a few offers, or even the manufacturer might have some great deals. The key is to get the lowest interest rate possible. If you’re struggling to make payments, rethink your options here. In my case, I’ll happily sign up for 60 months with a much lower rate than 48, and I’ll likely pay it off in 48 or fewer months, and I’ll be paying less for that loan than had I gone for the shorter term I could afford but had a higher rate.

With my Civic Type-R, I was dealing with two dealerships. One wanted a $5000 markup, the other wanted a $1000 markup. Had either kept that markup, someone else would be driving my car right now. Both dropped the markup the sell the car (likely to help make room for the new models, but I digress). With both dealers offering to sell me at MSRP, I got OTD quotes from both, and I ended up buying from the dealer with lower fees (that I’d worked with previously) and also had the car in the color I wanted.

Previously – as was the case with my Golf R, they wanted $2k in markups. I got up and walked. What played out was so stereotypical it could have been scripted. I thanked the salesman for his time when he wouldn’t budge on the markeup, went out to my car (walking slower than normal, but not so slow it was obvious) and a mere second before my key touched the door lock… “Wait! No markup! Will you come back?” Yup. They also gave me KBB value for my trade in, which until that point in time was something I never thought possible.

With my GMC Sierra, I failed to take my own advice. I’d visited the dealer a few times before and decided on a specific truck. That truck came with $10k of discounts on it. The salesman walked me past a nearly identical truck that happened to be the color I wanted, other options I wanted, plus certain accessories which were great to have on a truck. Endorphins. Dopamine. “Hey, what about this silver one?” $10k in discounts out the window, but I drove that truck home an hour later… on a lease. I paid gap insurance… on a truck. I agreed to paying a $450 fee on the contract should the lease end and I not get another truck or pay it off. I made silly concessions because my own hormones betrayed me.

Don’t get me wrong, that was a great truck, I loved that truck, but had I walked away the second I felt that rush of hormones and emotions… I might have bartered a much better deal in the end.

When my job changed, and my commute changed, my truck wasn’t the greatest commuter option so I started with step 1. I researched every car that had the options I wanted. I went to multiple dealerships to compare OTD pricing. In the end, I took my own advice, got 1.9% financing for 48 months and well, that’s a story for another post.

Good luck in your quest, my friends.

If there’s anything telling about the 5 years I owned a Subaru Legacy, it’s this:

That is the only photo I have of that car. It was a good looking car, handled great, couldn’t accelerate out of its own way… Leather interior, premium stereo, absolute tank in the winter. It was the whole wheat toast of cars. Healthy, safe, reliable, but almost completely forgettable once I’d decided to move on from it.

Maybe part of the reason I don’t think much about the car is that I replaced my favorite car – my ’05 GTI – with it because I now had a family and it was time to put away childish things. Originally, I wasn’t even looking at a Subaru. I first went to a local dealership with a crappy reputation that’s persisted since well before I began driving.

My first option was a Ford Fusion. AWD, V6. It had been sitting on the lot for 6 months, they were asking 15, I was offering 12 (mainly because I knew exactly how much they spent on it at auction and how much they spent to refresh it). They didn’t have any desire to haggle, so the owner abruptly asked me to leave. That’s right, I got kicked out of a dealership for attempting to haggle. Same dealership that sold a girl my ’89 Chevy Silverado with blown suspension and leaking exhaust… but I digress.

Subaru always had a great safety reputation, AWD made the winters in the northeast bearable, it was roomy and reliable. The handling was probably its best feature. Whether it was the AWD, the suspension, or the Continental DWS Extreme Contacts… that car could be absolutely hurtled into any corner and come out the other side unscathed. That being said, the 2.5l flat 4 was absolutely gutless. Not even manual shifting could redeem it.

Gas mileage was decent, while the salesman told me 35, reality was that they all lie, and the best I’d ever get on road-trips was around 30-32mpg. It was also the last car I ever took to get an oil change at the local car wash. Now I had plenty going on in my life at the time, a busy job, a failing marriage, so I didn’t really pay much attention to the oil stains on the driveway. In fact I think I mostly blamed the PT Cruiser (we’ll get there). All Chryslers leak.

In actuality, the car wash never actually tightened the oil filter. The weather warmed back up so I went to give it an oil change. The oil filter came off in my hand with zero effort. There was approximately 1/2 quart of oil in the oil pan. The only saving grace in this situation was Mobil 1 Synthetic. Any other oil, I’m pretty sure the engine would have been lost. I’m still wondering to this day how the oil light never came on.

I emailed the car wash, no response. Considering I had to destroy the oil filter on the PT Cruiser to remove it, I vowed to never again let that place change my oil. Seriously folks – if you have a driveway and a bucket, it’s not that difficult to do it yourself. I changed the oil, ran the car for a week, changed it again, had the cylinders scoped, engine was perfect. Seriously folks, Mobile 1. Worth every penny.

So since I bought the car before the marriage, I kept it after the marriage. I drove it for another 3 years after the divorce before my work situation changed, I got clear of all the debt I accrued before, during, and after the marriage, and finally had a chance to pay it off and be free of car payments for the first time in nearly 20 years. A week after I paid that Subaru off? Check engine light.

Can’t make it up. It’s like it knew. I will say one thing about Japanese cars though, they hold their resale value, even with a check engine light and 90k on the odometer. Before I can get to the car that replaced it though, I need to give SOME props to the veritable Chrysler PT Cruiser, and my 2012 Kawasaki Vulcan 900… my post divorce, make myself feel better by buying something big, toy.

But… that’s not a car! I know, right? But I would be remiss if I overlooked my motorcycles. I ask that you pardon the brief detour(s) here.

This is a horrible selfie, taken with a potato in the kitchen of my old apartment in Edenville. That was the day I learned to love riding a motorcycle. I had brought my bike up to Cycle Motion in Middletown, NY to get inspected. The weather was clear, no rain to be found, a good day for a ride… leaving the dealership, in the distance, I saw something like this:

That was between me and my home. The only way out was through, so I rode steady towards home when the rain and hail came down in torrents. All I was wearing at the time was blue jeans, work boots, a Carhardt denim jacket, dirt bike gloves and my helmet. Within seconds I was soaked, through and through. I took my time, the drivers behind me kept their distance, and the only time I came close to wiping out was when I let my rear tire cross the white painted line on the shoulder. Other than that, despite being completely saturated with water, pelted with heavy rain and hail, and on a motorcycle I had only owned for several weeks… I laughed my ass off. I was having FUN. That attitude stayed with me when it came to getting on two wheels.

There she is, my first bike. Low mileage, enough power to get on a highway but not enough power to hurt myself (much) it was a good starter bike. Before I took my first ride though, I was taken for a ride by the original owner. I think I spent about $1500 on this bike. When I picked it up, I brought my brother along to check it out since he was already a licensed rider for many years.

When the owner tried to fire it up, the battery was dead… Conveniently, his mechanic showed up and did some magic to get it running. Red flags? What are those? My brother took it down the road and back and gave it a thumbs up. Into the bed of my Chevy it went. I was a motorcycle owner! Now all I needed to do was learn to ride it.

Before I could do that though, I came to discover that the bike’s alternator (called a stator) was shot. My brother and I would go out and ride, only for my bike to randomly shut down. Pop starting it didn’t work either. I’d jump the bike with a car, get enough charge on it to ride it, then it would die again. $800 later (from an excellent mechanic who has sadly retired) and all was well… for a few years at least.

My mechanic (Tony – from Get In Gear) – grew to hate that bike. The stator is basically a spoked wheel wrapped with copper. Around it spins a flywheel with magnets. That generates the electricity which keeps the battery charged and runs all the accessories including the ignition that keeps the bike running.

Well Kawasaki in their infinite wisdom, glued the magnets to the flywheel. One of these magnets came loose and proceeded to explode like a grenade in the crank case, causing the stator above to fail. Tony managed to clean it up as best as he could and get the bike going again. Later in its life I would replace that stator with another (in my warm living room, perks of bachelorhood and home ownership).

The other big repair was a result of the bike dying on my way to work. I was at a stoplight in Florida, NY when the engine simply died. I tried everything I could to diagnose it there, but had zero luck. In the end I got it towed back to Tonys, it turned out that the timing key on the crankshaft sheared off and failed, the timing jumped, and the engine was done. He fixed it again, advised me to sell it quickly, and thankfully up until the stator failed again, worked very well.

For anyone interested in learning to ride a motorcycle, I highly recommend spending a couple hundred dollars and taking one of those safety and riding courses. Not only does it teach you everything you’d ever want to know about operating a motorcycle, it also provides real training and tries to prepare you for as much as they can. Plus, you get a waiver for your road test (at least here in NY).

Once I had a permit and my course completion, I completely IGNORED my instructors advice and started riding. I quickly learned just how oblivious other motorists are to motorcycles (note: I’m including automobiles, trucks, AND motorcycles here). It doesn’t really matter what you wear, what colors you cover yourself with, how loud your bike is, people simply do not see you. Most of the time it’s not even their fault, humans are stupid.

I will say that people on motorcycles, in my experience, are generally worse than cars. Riders accept that drivers are predictably idiotic… we don’t really feel the same about other riders until enough instances when they nearly run us off the road in the name of showing off or simply being impatient. Back when I was still learning, I was doing 40mph on a 40mph road, my brother behind me in his Jeep. Then a sportbike with open pipes shot past me doing at least 80mph. I almost jumped off my ride right there.

For it being my first bike, and despite having a handful of close calls, I never put it down. The closest I ever came was on Route 17A entering Florida, NY. It’s a 55mph road with homes and businesses dotting the roadway. Just before town, a “courteous” idiot came to a dead stop in this 55mph zone to let a UPS delivery truck leave the parking lot they were trying to enter. Nobody was expecting this. The car behind them slammed on the brakes, HARD. The car in front of me then slammed on the brakes, HARD.

I was riding closer than I should have (blame it on being a n00b), and I slammed on the brakes, HARD. Now a motorcycle when stopped properly without locking up the wheels, will come to a stop drastically faster than just about any car. I had already aimed towards the shoulder with this emergency stop… I check my side view and see the car behind me not coming to a stop fast enough. Fearing that I may get hit from behind, I go straight for the grass at about 35mph. Did I mention the grass was wet?

My focus at this point is staying vertical and not wiping out as the rear wheel proceeded to dance over the grassy hill I was now riding down nearly out of control. I make it to the asphalt driveway and stop safely, turn back at the car, still stopped as the UPS truck finally pulls out, flip them off (of course), then in my fury overrev and drop the clutch. First and last time I’d ever popped a wheelie on ANYTHING in my life. I proceed to rip down towards the athletic club so I can head out the other exit…. A bystander (obviously clueless to the entire chain of events here) looks at me and puts their arms up in a “what the hell” sort of gesture… Don’t worry, I flipped them off too.

There was a brief period in time (which I’ll get to later) during the winter, where I really didn’t want to drive my car. Thankfully it was a relatively snow-free winter, albeit the temperatures never really went above 25F. That winter nearly every day, I rode the half hour round trip to and from work on my bike. Bundled up with Long Johns, a fleece balaclava, winter riding gloves, heavy winter boots, etc… The looks I got as I slowly froze…

I will say one of my favorite times to ride is when it is cold, and at night. You know those clear, crisp, starry nights in late autumn / early winter? Nights like that it always felt like I was flying above the road like some sort of sputtering wraith. I’d also ridden in very hot weather, which is fine and good until you stop moving. Then all the heat from that engine starts to rise…

Back in 2012, my marriage was on the rocks. A lot of my dreams were heading towards an inevitable ending that I could not avoid, and to be honest – didn’t really care enough to anymore. That’s the thing when you get hurt badly enough, it’s actually pretty easy to throw your hands up in the air and give up. Now up until this point, my family would head down to the outer banks in North Carolina every summer.

This year, I made up an excuse not to go. Part of me really didn’t see the point in continuing to try and fix something beyond repair. What I planned to do was take a few days to myself to marinate some ideas… and then I decided that I was going. I wasn’t about to drive though, no. I loaded up enough provisions for 3 or 4 days at the condo, strapped them to my bike at 6pm on a Tuesday night, and ride the 600 miles to my family.

There was my little 500CC bike that I’d managed to shoehorn a set of Screaming Eagle exhaust pipes from a Harley Davidson Sportster onto… A small amount of luggage bungee corded to the sissy bar… and a solid 12 hour ride south. A couple of high points? Middle of nowhere, surrounded by black with nothing around me and nothing before me but the asphalt and white lines. Going through the Chesapeake Bay Tunnel at full throttle at 2am. Pulling up to the house and seeing my stepkids faces light up as I walked in the door.

Now normally, that bike with its 2.9 gallon tank was good for about 50mpg. At highway speeds though? That quickly dropped to around 36mpg. Every 90 miles I’d have to find another gas station. Most of the time I could plan ahead, but at one point on I believe it was I-95 south around Delaware… there I was, far left lane doing 90mph in a large pack of traffic doing 90mph when the engine starts to cut out.

This bike was pre-fuel injection, it had two carburetors, a tank with a reserve, and a small petcock (valve) that I could turn to switch to the reserve tank that held maybe a half gallon of fuel. So here I am, 90mph, bike rapidly slowing, me moving right, all the while trying to switch to my reserve. At about 50mph in the right lane, the engine sputtered back to life and I continued to the nearest rest stop for a 20oz can of Arizona and a full tank of gas.

A few more stops like that and I was in North Carolina, waiting for the ferry. I must have looked silly at some points because to say the seat on that bike was uncomfortable would be like saying fire has manners. As the tailbone pain kicked in, I found myself regularly putting my feet on my rear pegs and leaning across the tank like a sport bike. Looked silly, but it worked.

Eventually I made landfall in Ocracoke, and after a few days decided to head back north and avoid possible storms. Remember what I said about riding in the heat? I think temps that day were around 102F on the way back up. Every stop, I would grab one of those 20oz Arizona’s that were half tea / half lemonade. I didn’t stop to take a leak once. What really added to the experience though was that my bike simply refused to start on its own.

At my first fuel break, I went to start the bike, and nothing. Here I am, several hundred miles from my home and my mechanic, nothing worked. Eventually I figured out it was the safety switch on the clutch handle that prevented the bike from starting if the clutch wasn’t depressed… at that point though, I tried bypassing both that and the kickstand safety with no luck. In the end, every time I stopped, I simply pop-started the bike.

When I finally got home I parked the bike in the garage, and did not go near it again until the following summer. I was almost afraid that I’d never ride again, but that’s a story for another day. I made it there and back safely, got yelled at by my brother for riding that far alone, so all in all it was a success. That little bike held its own up until I replaced in in 2014, eventually giving it to my mechanic’s nephew for his first bike. Who knows where it is now.

I grew up with trucks. My father owned 3 of them over many years. A 1978 Ford F100…

I remember the long shifter, the foot activated high beams, and most of all the tube through the firewall into the carburetor where he’d spray starting fluid on days when it was tough to start. Yeah… love the man, but after seeing the same fix on his last ride-on, I threatened to steal his Craftsman if I saw it again… but I digress.

My earliest happy memories were in that truck, driving to Franklin, NJ for bagels as he sang “You are my sunshine” in that gravelly deep voice toned by decades of non-filtered Pall Mall and Chesterfield cigarettes. Then there was his 1985 Chevy S10…

The S10 was a mid size pickup with an Isuzu 4-cylinder engine that my father raved about. The rest of the truck slowly fell apart around that motor. If you’d ever driven around Warwick, NY and saw one of these with a big, black oak bumper on the back – that was my Dad. He’d been rear-ended by a small Pontiac, her car was trashed, and his bumper was twisted beyond repair. His solution? A big slab of Oak from Conklin’s. He wired it for lights, added a good coating of varnish, and mounted it to the S10. Nobody ever rear-ended that thing again.

One thing I always loved about trucks was the utlity of it. Any time we went camping with the Boy Scouts, there was the S10 ready for duty. One year my Dad even built an A-Frame for it that he assembled at the camp-site, so we slept in the bed of the truck with much more room than your standard pup tent. The next morning I’m pretty sure we got stuck in the med, but I’m pretty sure the term Glamping was invented in an old Chevy on Iona Island in the late 80s.

Lastly, there was his 1994 Ford Ranger. That’s where I learned to drive manual.

One day at work, this was after the Chrysler Concorde, he asked if I wanted to learn. I can’t recall the exact words he used, but it was along the lines of “Put it in gear, and slowly lift the clutch until it starts moving. If the engine sounds like its going to stall, give it gas. If it starts to take off, ease off the gas. Pretend there’s an egg under your foot and you don’t want to break it.” Simple instructions that have served me well over the years.

I made a crack in that caption about A/C. Local dealership sold my Dad the truck, salesman told him it had A/C. Bought it thinking it had A/C, was probably autumn or winter so it was cold enough. Spring and summer came along, the truck just wouldn’t get cold. Turned out that no, the truck had no A/C. Window sticker had no A/C. My dad took them to court, paperwork was on their side, the salesman lied (they all lie). In the end, he got the A/C installed afterwards, and I always made sure to double check every sales claim before I dropped the cash. Lesson learned.

So I’ve got my trusty GTI, but I want a truck. Turns out, friend of a friend has this old ’89 Silverado for sale. She picked it up for $1k from a local dealership (same one I got kicked out of for haggling too well). Now when she bought this thing, the suspension was BLOWN. When I say blown, I mean you could rest your hand on the hood of the truck, and push down with as much force as you would use to say…close the trunk on your car.

Instant lowrider.

Tires were bald. Seats were shredded. Headliner was sagging. Exhaust was leaking (we’ll get there later). Cab corners were rusted out (common Chevy thing back then). It was an absolute heap with maybe 150k on the odometer, but the engine seemed strong enough, and it shifted well. I handed over $1000 and brought it home.

In short order, I replaced the suspension with the help of my cousin, resolved my headaches and odor of exhaust by replacing everything from the cat back at the local Monroe. The front CV joints were also shot, I had Pro Automotive replace those. Everything else was working quite well overall, and it was an absolute tank in the winter.

You might notice the VT sticker on my VW, that reminds me WHY I bought the Chevy. I was buying a house with my fiancee, and a truck would be handy… Then I was dumped. On Valentines Day. By my fiancee. The day before we closed on our house. So originally, I bought it for utility. Then after everything went to crap in my life, I held onto it. I had happy memories of trucks, I wanted a truck, and turning a wrench has always been a healing practice for me. I would do a lot of healing with this truck.

Now between meeting my ex-wife, and getting dumped by my ex-fiancee, there were the VW and the Chevy in my driveway. I was headed into NJ with my girlfriend at the time when the engine started ticking LOUDLY and it didn’t seem to have the same level of power. I brought it home and started looking for a new engine. The two main options were Jasper or a GM crate. Jasper sells remanufactured (used) engines and there was a hit or miss opinion of them online. GM crate (brand new engine made by GM) cost more, but also had a very generous warranty. I reached out to a good friend who sold auto parts for a living, and he hooked me up.

The only thing that followed from the old motor was the distributor and intake manifold. I picked up all new accessories including exhaust headers. We also made a point to detail the engine bay…

Over the course of a few months, my cousin taught me how to swap an engine, detail a vehicle, strip the engine bay, paint and restore it… New fender wells, new bushings, all the bare metal media blasted and restored. It was absolutely beautiful. It also had its terrifying moments. While working on the truck, I was constantly raising and lowering it on the lift.

Anyhow, I’m under the truck, can’t recall what I was doing exactly, but I had just raised it back up. I hear a loud BANG behind me, the entire truck lurches upward in front, and I dive out of the way, probably cleared 10 feet. The high school baseball coach who judged me as lacking with my jumping ability would have been impressed. Turned out the passenger side rear pad on the two post lift had slipped off the rear leaf spring knuckle. The truck thankfully didn’t drop, and I was able to safely lower it and reposition the lift pads. Every day after? My shit goes up on jack stands. I’m not counting on a second chance.

Eventually everything got bolted down and it was ready to drive her home. I start her up, get down the steep driveway to the road, hit the gas, and it stalls. I start it again, ease onto the gas, and it stalls. Crap. My cousin (the greatest mechanical genius I’ve ever known) quickly figures out that the timing is off. We get it back into the garage, advance it until the engine is running smoothly (albeit quickly) and alas, it’s able to drive. Still, something is off here. So I do a little Google detective work and it turns out to set the timing on one of these, you need to disconnect the distributor from the computer, set the timing, then reconnect it. Previously we just set the timing, so the computer compensation would stall it out. Easy enough fix.

So on the outside, besides the custom wheels and tires, the truck looked like a beat up old Chevy. Under the hood? Absolutely pristine.

Oh yea, the turn signals were new, and I’d attached the headlights with molex connectors from computer power supplies. We worked our ass off on this truck. It ran great, looked great, I loved it.

Then I needed money.

VW wasn’t paid off yet. Goodbye truck. I miss that truck to this day. Wedding rings don’t buy themselves though…

When I decided to get rid of my 2000 Intrepid R/T, another part of that decision was due to me just not liking big cars anymore. My depth perception had always been crap, gas mileage was poor, and I got tired of parking it. I wanted something compact, quick, fun, manual, and a coupe because I was also tired of driving people around.

The dealership experience was great, and they did right by me on the trade-in. To keep the payments low, I went for a lease instead of buying it outright. I think it cost me about $350/m for 12000 miles. Initially I tried to be careful with the mileage, but eventually I just had so much fun with the car that I bought it outright.

The GTI was a blast. I remember the first night driving it, the red and violet dashboard lighting up for the first time resulted in a mutual “woah, cool!” from my girlfriend and I. Performance wise, this thing was like a go kart. It ran circles around everything I’d driven up to that point, and regularly got 30mpg.

I recall one time early in my ownership, taking a friend for a ride in the car. I was showing off of course, ripping through curves and tearing down straights with absolute impunity. There were a few points where I managed to induce some oversteer, and at the end of the joy ride he said “ok yeah, that thing is quick!” Probably the best compliment I could have gotten.

Over the course of ownership, there were very few issues with the car related to defect. I’d say the top two were the ignition coils failing so regularly that I’d keep extras in the trunk. Also, the car’s electronics made heavy use of lead free solder, which resulted in the drivers door locks randomly failing to work correctly. Other than that though, it was a solid car.

Of course, in the classic game of rock, paper, scissors – telephone pole always defeats car.

The previous winter, I wasn’t able to meet some friends returning from duty in Iraq because my humble FWD couldn’t make it up a particularly steep road with good tires. Even with the traction control disabled, it was the little engine that couldn’t. That lead me to buy snow tires on smaller wheels the following year.

I don’t think I even had a chance to try the Blizzaks out in actual snow by the time this happened. I was heading to Middletown for it’s 10k mile service on a cold, clear morning when the car hit some black ice and began to spin into the road. I corrected one way and slid into oncoming, corrected the other way, slid back, eventually finding a telephone pole which spun the car 180 degrees after the collision.

I was unharmed, but very annoyed. Insult to injury, the NYS Trooper who wrote up the accident cited me for failure to keep right. Telling him I hit black ice got the response “it doesn’t matter you’re responsible for controlling your car.” Real sympathetic, quota hit I guess. I didn’t care for the Blizzaks regardless, they had very soft sidewalls and made a normally tight and firm handling car feel… squishy around corners.

That wouldn’t be the last time to the body shop in my 6 years and 53000 miles of ownership. For some reason, people absolutely loved running into my VW from behind. The first time it happened, an elderly couple in a Ford Crown Victoria were racing to beat a tractor trailer to a merge, and didn’t notice that I was ahead of them at a dead stop, waiting to turn.

I looked in my rear view as the front of their car bottomed out under heavy braking, it scooped my little VW up and shifted it out of the way like shooing a small animal. The driver even tried to blame me, saying they didn’t see my turn signal. Or my brake lights. Or me at a dead stop. Sorry, that dog didn’t hunt.

Then I got rear-ended again on my way to work, construction had held up traffic on 17A, and while I waited I saw a green Eagle Vision TSI (Eagle version of the Dodge Intrepid). This time I saw it coming, cut the wheel towards the shoulder and tried to get out of the way. I wasn’t quick enough and BOOM.

Lastly, I decided to go down to the Jersey Shore for a day. A quick hour and a half drive to sunshine, ocean waves, and relaxation. All was well, I was at a traffic light, looking at a Smart Fortwo next to me, when a white Chevy Equinox slammed into me again. Whiplash rules, btw. Each hit was worth about $1500-$3000 in damage. The hit from the Eagle cost the most as it required replacing the exhaust from the cat back.

There was also the time I was going to Vermont for the week, started the car, smelled smoke, and my entire dashboard died. Long story short, a mouse chewed up the wiring on the fuel pump and caused a short circuit. Warranty didn’t cover the several thousand dollar repair, but thankfully my insurance did. The big issue was that the part came from Germany and had to be programmed there (mileage, etc…).

Eventually though, life came along and adjusted the equation. I started dating – and eventually married someone – who had two kids. Loading and unloading the coupe every day became tedious, so I decided to trade my beloved VW in for something more family friendly, safe, and reliable. However, I can’t talk about my Subaru Legacy without discussing my 1989 Chevy Silverado project.

I really liked my ’95 Intrepid. It was my first nice car, and to this day part of me regrets selling it off to buy a Neon. In 1998, the car underwent a significant redesign, apparently it was the first Dodge to be completely designed on a computer. No idea if that’s accurate but it stuck in my head.

Base model had a gutless 2.7l engine that’d grenade itself eventually with a ‘sludge’ problem. The ES had a 3.2l V6 with a decent amount of power. The R/T? The 3.5l was back with 242hp (same engine had 253hp in the 300M, albeit on 91 octane fuel). I’d actually been looking for a 300M Special but had no luck.

I’d mentioned in the previous post “don’t buy a Dodge to make someone jealous” – now this wouldn’t be the first time I did something car related to make someone jealous. Back when I had my ’95, I was dating a girl who apparently had a problem with me not spending all my cash on doing things like custom exhaust, or a beefed up stereo… Ah, teenagers.

So once that gf dumped me, I went out, cut off the exhaust and installed a pair or 12 inch subwoofers in the trunk. I also added remote start. Was always entertaining to fire that thing up when someone at the coffee shop was standing behind it completely oblivious. I did manage to make the girl jealous, and my teenage mind couldn’t be more satisfied.

So there I was, dumped again, driving a car I only bought because my ex had one. Time for a return to form. Time for a big, powerful sedan to really show her that I was doing great! Yeah – sad, I know. My search for the 300M failed, so I wound up going to a dealer in NJ to pick up this Intrepid R/T…

So I traded a paid-off 2001 Neon with 90k miles for a 2000 Intrepid R/T with 60k miles. The car handled great, plenty of power, but it felt… gigantic. It had definitely been in a collision at some point as the headlights didn’t match and there was paint peeling off the front bumper. The headliner was sagging in the rear too.

The saleswoman fought me every bit of the way on negotiating the price of this car as well as that of my trade-in. In the end I heard she only made $100 commission on the sale because I fought back. The finance guy had the personality of a T1000. After waiting 8 hours, I finally headed out in my used car.

On my way home from the dealer, I nearly wrecked it. I pulled off onto a side road that I’d driven plenty of times, stood on the gas, and over a rise in the road, the rear end went airborne. The car started going sideways as I corrected and kept it from wiping out when it landed. I took it pretty easy after that.

I’d been in a happier place with my ’95, and I guess part of me thought if I got another one, somehow I’d be able to drive back to that happy place. In actuality, it was just a distraction, a fun distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. Unlike my Neon, I only had one run in with a deer during my ownership of the R/T.

I’d made an observation after hitting two consecutive deer. Deer are pretty smart, they’re just very skittish. I always noticed that as I approached, they’d watch me. If I slammed on the brakes, they’d panic and dart out. If I just maintained my speed, they kept on eating grass and left me alone. I made the conscious decision to not stop for them anymore.

One evening I’m driving home from Warwick in the R/T, and as I’m pulling down into Edenville, I see it. A deer is heading straight towards the road. If I slam on the brakes, I’ll hit it. If I maintain my speed, I’ll probably hit it. So I floored it. That deer ran full speed into the side of my car, nose first, leaving a wet streak down the side. He lived.

I also learned that in my area, there was really only 1 good Dodge dealer. I would frequent the dealer across from my job for oil changes, inspections, and small repairs. Things started to get weird when at 80k miles they recommended I get a new timing belt. Maintenance schedule for the car said 105k. Sorry guys, not born yesterday.

Another reason I started using that dealership near my job is that during a particularly cold winter, my power steering pump would SCREAM. I had a service contract, so I called the NJ dealer I bought it from. They looked at the car and said it was fine. As it continued each morning, I complained. They told me “all the cars are doing it.” The dealer by my job swapped it in a day.

Of course, I should have paid attention when they tried to upsell me on a timing belt after an oil change. Months later I had to replace my pads and rotors up front. I did that in my driveway, and everything went perfectly. Calipers were fine too. Two weeks later, it’s at the dealer for an oil change and they tell me I need new front brakes. What?

I decline, head home, and check my front brakes… Still brand new. Two weeks later, metal on metal. I get the car up in the air and when I check the calipers, I see a pin hole in the piston boot (rubber bit around the caliper piston) in the same spot on both front calipers. I probably could have complained, but I couldn’t exactly prove what they did to my car.

Now all along I had my 4 door sedans, I as one of the designated car guys of the group. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed driving, and didn’t mind driving my friends around. As I got older, we hung out less at coffee shops and malls, and more at bars and restaurants. One night, I visited this absolute dive bar in NJ with the R/T with 4 friends…

We pull into the lot, I pull around a telephone pole, and park. After a few hours of drinking and merriment, and when I was sure that I was sober, we all hopped into the R/T to head home. Backing out, I didn’t notice anything until I heard the loud BANG. I forgot about the telephone pole.

Both passenger side doors were caved in. The pole was fine, the car not so much. A bunch of 20 somethings calling the police outside a bar – guarantee that wouldn’t end well, so we left. I got everyone home, and began my quest to fix the car. No police report meant no insurance option. I visited local bodyshops, all said the same thing – $900 to $1000/door.

I ended up going online, and buying two used doors from a junk yard. I think including freight, it all cost about $300. Swapping a door can’t be that hard, right? I head off to my friends house and we proceed to replace the door. Try as I might, I couldn’t get the new door aligned properly. I lost it, and gave my friends permission to punch me should I decide to undertake such a repair again.

Through a friend I found a private body repair guy up near Newburgh who would align the front door, repair the rear door, paint both, and blend everything in. It only cost a few hundred, and once done nobody could tell it was damaged.

There weren’t a lot of performance upgrades available for these cars, despite the R/T badging. The transmission also kept a solid 25% of engine power from reaching the wheels. Still, I decided to pick up a cold air kit by K&N. I can’t say it did a lot for the performance of the car, but at full throttle the engine sounded possessed. It was wonderful.

It was wonderful until I saw smoke under the hood, and smelled oil burning. Great. The joy of full throttle was replaced with anxiety and Google searches for what would cause engine oil to spray from the intake. I saw a massive repair bill inbound, reinstalled the stock air intake, and decided to trade the car in.

Back when I was looking to get rid of the Neon, I considered getting a Volkswagen GTI. I’d always liked VW’s since growing up with my Mother’s MK1 Rabbit. At that point, I couldn’t afford one. At this point though, the idea of a new car that I wouldn’t have to worry about having to repair for a long time sounded good.

Yup. To avoid repairs, I bought a new 2005 VW GTI. German engineering, right?