By Edward A. Forbes
The Bulletin
In 1997, my daughter, Chanie, had just turned 15 years old and received her driver’s learner permit.
I wanted to make sure she was confident, capable and experienced before getting her license and driving solo.
We began her driving lessons in my Dodge pickup truck with a three-speed, floor-mounted manual transmission.
Chanie’s experiences with the clutch were traumatic.
The transition to our Nissan minivan proved to be drama-free. No tears and frustration for Chanie and no ulcer for Dad.
We began driving at the fairground’s parking lot. There were many open areas to practice starts, stops and steering from one parking lane to another. With a much more peaceful series of lessons under our belts, we transitioned to less-traveled county roads. She proved to be adept as a driver with the automatic transmission, and the passenger’s experience (mine) quickly became more comfortable.
Chanie continued to drive me to the grocery store, for my pharmacy’s after-hours deliveries and other errands.
The only thing required now was to find a vehicle for her. I got lucky since friends had a 1986 Buick LeSabre they wanted to sell at a reasonable price. I quickly made the deal, and it became a combination birthday and “you passed the driving exam” gift. I test drove the car and really liked it and the way it rode and handled on the highway. She was pleased and proud of her gift and the accompanying cellphone.
I wanted her to be able to contact me if and whenever necessary. A week later, I got my first phone call.
“Dad, there’s something weird about this car. Mandy, her “BFF” (best friend forever) and I were driving to town, and she turned on the radio, and the windshield wipers came on!”
I considered this and my driving experiences with the car and replied: “You must have hit another switch; nothing like this happened to me.”
A few days later, I received another call. “Dad, we are sitting in the high-school parking lot, and the car won’t start! I turn the key, and nothing happens.” I prepared for a quick trip to the high-school parking lot and received another call. “Dad, now the car started, and I’m going home.”
Days later, I received another call. “Dad,” she said hysterically, “Mandy and I are at Wal-Mart, and we are locked in the car and can’t unlock the doors to get out!”
The two-door hardtop had anti-theft door locks that were smooth and hard to grip; the power windows wouldn’t work; and neither key fob nor inside door unlock switch would work. This was perplexing to say the least, and I took the traumatized girls home.
Fast forward to the following day, and I had Chanie drive me to Wal-Mart’s parking lot, and the key fob worked. I drove to a friend’s tire shop, where he also did minor auto repair work. “I think there is some sort of electrical problem with the Buick,” I explained.
He kept it for a couple of days and drove it with no issues until the day it did its radio and windshield wiper trick and followed that with a headlight switch turning on the radio. He was baffled. A friend had started working at the shop with him, and he told me he was going to figure this out. He kept the Buick for about a week and found the problem.
The car had rear-motor mounts that had failed, and at certain times, this caused the ground cable to pull off the chassis. This caused all the weird electrical incidents. My daughter was not appeased, and she hated that car.
Graduation was approaching in a year, so I told her to drive it until then, and I would let her pick a reasonably priced used car to replace it, and I would give it to her brother.
This settled her down, but she remained convinced her Buick was a “Christine”, referring to the Stephen King novel and 1983 movie about a killer car. She never trusted it again.
Her brother, on the other hand, drove it over a year before a major mechanical failure struck Christine. Sadly, she went to the auto graveyard and didn’t resurrect herself - to the best of my knowledge, that is.
(Edward Forbes wants to hear from you. Email him at eforbes1946@gmail.com or mail comments to The Bulletin, P.O. Box 2426, Angleton TX. 77516.)
Kommentare