Christmas is a joyous time of year and a brutally expensive time of year. But despite the beating my wallet took, I still managed to buy myself a few pricey things. Hey, a girl needs to pamper herself from time to time, doesn’t she? And fasten your seatbelts because I splurged!
I bought myself a shiny new Cadillac! Can you believe it? I'm the Princess of Spending! Oh, wait, I just re-read that. That’s wrong. Not a Cadillac, a Catalytic – yes, that’s it, I bought a Catalytic Converter for my van.
Let’s face it. Anybody can blow a muffler. Whoopee. But I wanted to show off.
Heads used to turn as my mighty Mom Van roared around town. I felt like a street racer, a rebel-chick without a cause - well, last Thursday, I was only heading out to get the boys healthy snacks for lunches, but still, I was soundin’ fierce doing it.
I've noticed when you say to a guy “I need to replace my Catalytic Converter”, he winces. It’s the same wince you get from a female when you say “forceps delivery”.
But lucky for me, I got to pick from a few Cat Cons (the pet name we ‘spare no expense’ vehicle repair people call them). Gee, do I want the $1300 brand name that would dazzle onlookers whenever I’m on a hoist or do I go with the less expensive no-name that doesn’t come with the same coast to coast warranty?
Well, close to fifteen hundred dollars two weeks before Christmas in a household that buys gifts-a-plenty for our 3 kids, their teachers, pals and dog, 54 family members, friends and co-workers, tack on several bottles of adult beverages to have on hand or take with us, the giant holiday grocery order, a few extra tanks of gas for travel, a couple nights out – hmmm, I’m not thinking we’ll be needing any brand name ‘coast to coast’ warranty in the near future.
Maybe ‘block to block’ or ‘east end to west end’ but that’s about it. Any 2009 travel plans we make will be classified as ‘No GPS required’, if you get my drift.
Oh and did I mention that the repairs didn’t stop with my gleaming new Catalytic Converter? They stopped when I got some shiny new brakes, too.
I toyed with the notion of not fixing anything. The way things stood, after all, you would have heard me coming a mile away if my ABS (Ain’t ‘Bout ta Stop) braking system kicked in.
Back in the day, when I was bombing around in my beat up 1977 yellow Honda Civic, mufflers and brakes would have been a luxury.
I was pulled over once and the cop said “You must know why I’m stopping you. The noise has to be bothering you as much as it’s bothering the rest of us.”
But in those days, one perfectly timed “its no big deal, they’re just the brakes” at my parents dinner table would have erupted into the standard issue lecture on the importance of vehicle maintenance and how I’m responsible for the safety of not only myself and my passengers but others on the road. Then it would have steer itself to the “take the car in, get the brakes fixed properly and you can pay us back later” victory lap.
Come to think of it, I better not let my mother read this. There may still be an outstanding balance on my account.
Alison Davies writes More About Life weekly. Email her at alisondavies@moreaboutlife.ca