One Too Many
Last year, I decided that we should either start using our ’66 Globe Trotter or sell it. It sat for three years with very little use and I thought that was a waste. So, we’ve been out in it several times this year. The downside is that we’ve not used our bigger, ’86 Excella, but once. Now it is the trailer sitting idle.
I keep thinking that I’ve got to sell one or the other. I really don’t have the time or energy to keep or use both. Each has things I want to fix, fine tune, polish, clean or improve. But when I give one attention, the other languishes. I’m not good at multi-tasking.
Which one should I sell? That’s the question. I like them both and each has advantages over the other. As a result, I haven’t been able to make a decision. My wife is no help either. She’s partial to one, but admits the other is more suitable.
I don’t have this problem with any other piece of property and certainly not with cars. I’ve had so many different cars in my lifetime that I recently decided to make a list. There are currently twenty-two on it. I think that is accurate, but I’ve thought that before, only to then find an old registration or photo of one I’d forgotten.
My favorite was a 1970 Ford Ranch Wagon. It was dependable, powerful, comfortable, could haul and tow yet got 19 mpg. Unfortunately, it rusted from the inside out. By the time I realized how extensive the rust was the cost of fixing it would have exceeded the value of the car. So, I sold it.
The one car I kept the longest was a 1987 Ford Aerostar. That was a love/hate relationship. Its best feature was its flexibility and though it was a minivan it could haul just about anything. Despite spending plenty of money on maintenance, the brakes were its worst feature as they were always marginal under the best of conditions and downright scary otherwise. I sold it when the brakes failed completely coming down Guanella Pass into Georgetown, CO.
Only two cars were ever involved in accidents while I was driving. We were rear-ended while stopped for a red light in my Ford Thunderbird. Amazingly, we were not hurt and even though the car that hit us was totaled (it nosedived under us) our car only needed a new muffler.
My ’71 VW Super Beetle was an odd duck. I hit a pedestrian with it while going 60 mph on the interstate at four in the morning. He was dressed all in black and I didn’t see him. I knew I’d hit something of course, but didn’t know it was a man until I walked back along the highway to find what I hit. I heard him talking to himself before I saw him. The horrible feeling I had at that moment is indescribable but once I found him with my flashlight and saw that his only injury was a broken leg I was so relieved that I nearly laughed. He was drunk and I learned later that he’d been hitchhiking in the middle of the roadway.
Other than a very shallow dent in the front bumper, the VW wasn’t damaged. Its particular shape saved the man’s life. It popped him up in the air and he went completely over the car. My other car at the time was a VW bus. If I’d been driving that, the outcome would have been much different. As it was, he spent a couple days in the hospital and was released. A year later, he was drunk again, this time in Yosemite National Park, and walked off a cliff in the middle of the night. He didn’t survive that.
Anyway, I’ve never longed for any car, but the Airstreams are different. Regardless of which one I keep, I know I’ll miss the one I let go.