Feel the Freedom --- My Subaru is Fixed!

Today is a great day. After more than two weeks in the "repair area" of our driveway, my 2000 Subaru Outback is finally road ready! She (my daughter calls her Amelia) had a torn inner CV boot that was throwing grease onto the under carriage of the car, creating a slimy mess that smelled whenever the Subaru warmed up. To mitigate this problem, my husband asked me to forego driving Amelia for "a few days" until he could repair the injury. Being the accomodating individual that I am, I agreed. This action on my part transformed us, once again, into a one-car household for the duration.

"For the duration" is such a loaded phrase in this house, open to constant redefinition. When my tankless water heater broke in 2004, it was defined as more than two weeks. When Amelia the Subaru blew a defective head gasket during 2005, the definition hit somewhere around seven months. When the front porch was removed from my house --- well, I'm still waiting to see where that definition lands. This time, the definition reverted to just over two weeks.

To truly appreciate the experience of driving my husband's car, you need to understand the difference between these two vehicles. Amelia the Subaru has plush charcoal gray velour seats that barely show signs of wear. She even smells new after almost six years on the road. Being an Outback, she has tons of storage and hauling space in the back. Her seats are roomy and sit high, a huge comfort issue for the chiropractically-challenged (like me). Her weather band radio and multiple CD changer provide up-to-date information and the ability to play any music that suits my mood. Her standard transmission works like a dream and, did I mention, she has air conditioning.

Flik the Mazda, on the other hand, has seen better days. At one time, he was the cherished car of the household, but his bloom has definitely faded. His gray cloth seats have holes. He smells musty and old. His trunk is roomy enough, but suffers from a persistent water leak in the rear taillight, so utilization of the space can be dicey depending on the weather forecast. His seats are low, the standard seat height found in compact cars, aggravating my moody sacroiliac joint. His casette player died long ago and his radio fades in and out, requiring periodic "mechanical agitation," generally about halfway up on the right side of the unit does the trick. His standard transmission requires that the driver yank up on the shift lever before engaging the gear of choice and, oh yeah, his air conditioning is broken.

Ah ha! Now we come to it. The air conditioning is broken. During a week of some of the most brutally warm temperatures the Northeast has seen in the better part of a decade, I was driving the cooling-challenged automobile. Having grown up in southern Minnesota where summer temperatures routinely flirt with the low triple digits, especially in August, I am no stranger to summer heat. My dad drove Chevy station wagons that were purchased used and driven until they just refused to function, and none of the cars had air conditioning. It never bothered me then. I barely noticed the heat. So, why does the heat bother me so much now? Part of it is mental, refusing to accept the heat as reality because I can always find refuge in my air conditioned house. Part of it is physical, since I am easily twenty pounds above my ideal weight. All of it is whining and I am not partial to whining.

So, what is my point? The journey to a road ready car may have some interesting detours that require an examination of my attitudes, but in the end I still have a beautiful car. As inconvenient and annoying as it was, I was only without my beloved Subaru for two weeks. Plus, I didn't need to pay anyone to fix it because my husband is an incredibly gifted mechanic. Life is definitely good.

See you later. Gotta hit the road!