Sometimes itís nice to have a little good luck.
Iím speaking about an incident last week with my car.
The car, a 1996 Ford Taurus, is a pure beater. Two doors donít work, and the dash board has more warning lights flashing than an F-15. It has plenty of little dents, and a few big ones.
Iím almost embarrassed to drive it. But not quite. It still drives all right. The mileage is decent. And itís paid for!
The car has seen just under 263,000 miles of action, first in Pine County, now in hill country. Nothing major has ever gone wrong with it, which I find amazing. Thatís a testament to how much better cars are made these days.
The car almost suffered a fatal blow about six years ago, when I hit a deer with it head on. The impact broke the windshield, fractured the frame in front, and deployed the air bags. No one was hurt, except for the deer, but the repair estimate was $3,600. That was more than the car was worth, so the insurance company totalled the car, paid us the money, and towed it away.
But about a week later, I got to thinking about the Mauve Mobile, as we had taken to calling the car based on its distinctive color. I wondered if I couldnít still drive it. The body shop that had estimated the repairs said yes, the cracked frame would hold up. ìFix the windshield, stuff the parachutes back into the dash, you got yerself a car.î
So I bought the car back for one fourth of the settlement. The catch was I could not resell the vehicle because the air bags had been deployed. Fine with me. A little duct tape goes a long way.
Since then the Mauve Mobile has kept plugging away. Until last week. I was almost home on Tuesday night when the car came to a shuddering stop. It wouldnít turn over. ìHmm. Gas gauge is on full. Plenty of oil, antifreeze is OK.î But it would not start.
I towed it to Ron Cordesí shop that night. He called the next morning with the bad news: ìLooks like the fuel pump, Dave.î Estimated cost, $375. Ouch!
So it was debate time. Thatís never an easy one to figure out: How much money do you stick into an old car?
We finally told Ron to fix it. My loyalty to the old beater is akin to our ancient dog, MacKenzie. They have both been loyal friends.
Ron said he would order the part and install it on Thursday. That night I stopped in to pick it up.
Ron had a slight twinkle in his eye ñ a Cordes kind of look you might say ñ when I arrived. Then he told me the tale, also in a Cordes kind of way, which means heíll get to the point if you just hold tight.
The car wasnít getting gas, but Ron said he thought he had heard the fuel pump engage when he first tried it. No, it must have been the antennae going up. Then he and a helper heard the same thing the next morning. But no gas. Hmm.
Wait a minute. They ran a stick into the tank. Dry. The old car had run out of gas, both literally and figuratively.
Ron sloshed in a little Saudi Soup and checked the fuel pump again. Gas shot out. It worked great. He drove it to Kwik Trip, put in $10 worth of gas, charged me another $10 for his time and trouble, and that was that, thank you very much. There wasnít even a restocking fee for the fuel pump.
ìThe fuel gauge is stuck on full, but for $375 I figured you could live with that,î Ron said. He was right.
I left Ronís feeling very grateful to have such a thorough mechanic. I felt as if I had just made $365. Maybe the Mauve Mobile thought so too.
A little luck never hurts anyone.

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