Let's go to Bed
May. 10th, 2008 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tracker7From time to time, I've mentioned my Explorer, Omar. He's a pretty terrific truck, a first-generation Explorer XLT, able to handle hauling people and a decent amount of cargo alike, good road manners, and very capable for reasonable off-roading and on-lousy-roading. However, he is 16 years old, with 170,000 miles on the odometer. In the past few days, one serious problem with that age and mileage has come to be - fourth gear has decided it's not going to work anymore. While that's not an absolute vehicle-killer, it's the sort of thing that's only going to get worse. So, after consultation, today, I handed the big guy back to my dad, who will have the resources to either rebuild or replace the transmission, and given the questionable road quality in Casey County, the truck will be good for a winter-use and/or medium-duty towing vehicle.
So, I needed a replacement vehicle, and quickly. Two candidates were tested - a SW2 and Focus wagon. The little Saturn was the leading candidate - cars were only 1 year apart in age, about 12000 miles difference on the odometers, but the SW2 was about a grand less costly. However, another option presented itself, rather unexpectedly.
In 1996, my grandfather decided it was time to replace his existing sedan. Papaw was never much for ostentation; comfortable practicality was more his thing. He was also possessed of a particular sense of humor. On the day it was time to get the new vehicle, he brought me along, as I was in Liberty for the weekend.
Papaw had always had a thing for red cars, and my grandmother hates the color red. Papaw, of course, brought home a series of red vehicles for her disapproval. The first was a Probe GT. Then a Thunderbird. The Mercury Capri XR2? No way - he didn't even get out of the car before my grandmother charged at the driveway to make him go back to the dealership. So, he picked out something completely sensible, and of a dark enough red that Mamaw was okay with it. Papaw died a little over three years later, and as my grandmother never learned how to drive, the car was idled, except for a monthly-or-so drive to keep things in working order.
About two years ago, when my grandmother's this-will-be-what-kills-you aortic aneurysm was diagnosed, she started letting her kids know how things were going to be divided up according to her and Papaw's wishes. It was revealed that Papaw intended for his last car to eventually wind up in my possession.
So, Saturday afternoon, I took possession of the vehicle. Again, nothing spectacular, but I dig on it. It's a 1994 Taurus, with barely 80000 miles on the odometer. Comfortable, good road manners, and highway mileage far superior to the Explorer and somewhat better than the Mustang. Here is my new pal, Hephaestus:
And, since I'm photo-spamming, a sign with a rather curious typo. I guess this is where old cinderblocks go to die or something.
So, I needed a replacement vehicle, and quickly. Two candidates were tested - a SW2 and Focus wagon. The little Saturn was the leading candidate - cars were only 1 year apart in age, about 12000 miles difference on the odometers, but the SW2 was about a grand less costly. However, another option presented itself, rather unexpectedly.
In 1996, my grandfather decided it was time to replace his existing sedan. Papaw was never much for ostentation; comfortable practicality was more his thing. He was also possessed of a particular sense of humor. On the day it was time to get the new vehicle, he brought me along, as I was in Liberty for the weekend.
Papaw had always had a thing for red cars, and my grandmother hates the color red. Papaw, of course, brought home a series of red vehicles for her disapproval. The first was a Probe GT. Then a Thunderbird. The Mercury Capri XR2? No way - he didn't even get out of the car before my grandmother charged at the driveway to make him go back to the dealership. So, he picked out something completely sensible, and of a dark enough red that Mamaw was okay with it. Papaw died a little over three years later, and as my grandmother never learned how to drive, the car was idled, except for a monthly-or-so drive to keep things in working order.
About two years ago, when my grandmother's this-will-be-what-kills-you aortic aneurysm was diagnosed, she started letting her kids know how things were going to be divided up according to her and Papaw's wishes. It was revealed that Papaw intended for his last car to eventually wind up in my possession.
So, Saturday afternoon, I took possession of the vehicle. Again, nothing spectacular, but I dig on it. It's a 1994 Taurus, with barely 80000 miles on the odometer. Comfortable, good road manners, and highway mileage far superior to the Explorer and somewhat better than the Mustang. Here is my new pal, Hephaestus:
And, since I'm photo-spamming, a sign with a rather curious typo. I guess this is where old cinderblocks go to die or something.
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Re: The Taurus Club
Date: 2008-05-12 02:39 pm (UTC)Transmission shifts were pretty smooth on last night's drive, even under fairly hard acceleration. I'm guessing the highway mileage at about 27MPG, which is a hair better than the Mustang and notably better than the Explorer.