C is for Catmobile!

Another A to Z blog post.  Today is C day.

C is for Catmobile and for Chevy!

Not Fords, oh gawd no.  We grew up to believe Fords were evil.

The Chevy versus Ford allegiances of that time were akin to today's Republican versus Democrat wars.  And like today's political spats, the war was about loyalty, not about function.  One was in one camp or the other.

I've had a few cars in my day, but until late in life, they were all Chevies.

My first car was a real beater, bought for $300, a Chevy Vega wagon.  My father went with me to check it out, being a self proclaimed mechanic.  But he had no ability to stand up to other men, which made him an easy mark.  When he asked if it used any oil, and the man said "no", that was good enough.  He didn't question it, then urged me to lay out my hard earned hard saved $300.  So I did.

And that Vega gave me such pain.  I had to carry a case of oil around with me in the back.  It not only leaked oil, it burned it too.

When it failed, my grandmother, who had gone into a nursing home, gave me her Chevy Impala.  Likely she gave it to me because I'd taken her on a motorcycle ride, when she was well into her 80's.  Having no money from summer jobs, since I'd worked for my father for nothing, I'd resorted to riding a very old Honda C6 motorcycle, top speed 60 mph, with severe vibration.  I even rode it all the way up from California once, where I went to college in the Napa Valley.  That was not fun.

The Impala lasted about a year before the head gasket blew and without money for a repair, I sold it.

Next, I got a Chevy Luv pickup.  Even though it had miles on it when bought, it took me up the Alcan highway, to a job in Alaska, without a bit of trouble and got decent mileage.  Eventually it failed however, head gasket, rings blown, and I sold it to someone who wanted "a project".

I then went over a decade without wheels before I bought my first Ford, heaven help me, a Fairmont Wagon with straight six engine, a beater, for $200, with a repair manual under the back seat.  It was always in a state of disrepair.  The dash was often off for rewiring.  The gas gauge didn't work.  The heater didn't work.  The odometer didn't work.  The speedometer didn't work.   I even learned to replace the drive line myself.  Had to. Nobody was going to help.

My brother and his son painted it.  Thanks a lot.  It became The Cop Magnet then.

When that failed, I turned to Toyotas.  First a Corolla wagon, which lasted only a year before the transmission failed, and now the Scion, acquired as my father died, as a wish he had, that I have reliable wheels for once and I've driven it ever since.  Took me awhile to realize I didn't need to carry survival gear everywhere I went for when the car broke down.

The Scion is The Catmobile and has been the most reliable car ever and the hardest worker.  It has transported over 10,000 cats to spay neuter or new lives.  

With almost 300,000 miles on it now, I worry over its future.  And mine, should it fail.  I think, when it does fail, it should be bronzed and made into a statue.  The little Scion that could.

C is for Catmobile, not a Chevy, but the best little car ever.