The Pathfinder Strikes Back: Day Three

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.  Say this over and over when you’re looking to buy a used car.  When you’re tired and hungry and want to get the whole thing over with, you ignore the warning lights.  You brag to people about your good deal.  You go to sleep happy.

Charlie drove the new Pathfinder home with the excited General in the passenger seat.  (She can’t drive manual transmission anywhere but a parking lot.)  I drove behind them in my new-found love, the big-ass honkin’ truck.  The General waved at me and smiled at every stop light. 

We had plans but Cheyenneh did, too.  Her plans were to teach her how to drive the Pathfinder.  She flunked learning how to drive the Jeep, badly.  Jeeps are hard, though, so we have hope.  We still have hope while she’s driving the Pathfinder around the vacant parking lot.

We’re still hopeful when she drives to G.I. Joe’s and convinces us to buy Hawaiian seat covers and things to hang from her new vehicle’s rear view mirror.  We were beyond being tired and hungry.  She could have really taken advantage of us.  They sell snowboards, too.

We went back on the roads to further test our patience.  Only twice did we almost die.  Once, the General decided changing the radio station was more important than stopping at a red light and we ended up in the middle of the intersection.  The oncoming cars slowed down while she backed up and we caught our breath.

The second time she was working through her hill skills.  Charlie signaled for cars to go around so she could learn how to go forward when starting on a hill.  She got it then kept going through the stop sign without noticing she was heading into traffic going 35 mph.  “I won’t do that again,” she said.

We let her drive to her Dad’s and her friends.  We let her take it to school the next day as long as she left very early in the morning when there’s no traffic.

“You don’t know how much I love this car,” she said as soon as she came home.  “It’s my path to freedom.  Every time I look at it I almost cry.  It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I brought all my friends out to look at it between classes.  I felt so good swinging my keys around at school.”

“Time to teach you the ways of Winco,” I said.  “Want to drive?”

“I’ll be in the car,” she said.  “My car.”

We went the long way.  I didn’t want to risk the highway.

“It’s been kind of screaming,” she says.  The car sounds like the tires can’t grab the road.

“Something’s wrong.”

“It won’t go forward, no matter how much I push down.  You try.”

I get in and accelerate, reverse, put it in 4WD.  The car sits there, across the street from Winco in front of some little old lady’s tiny white house.  I call Charlie and he comes right over. 

He gets out of the big-ass honkin’ truck, takes one whiff and says, “The clutch went out.  You take the truck and I’ll get it towed.  We’ve owned this thing only 22 hours.”

Cheyenneh gets all the cheetos and chocolate she can fit in the cart.  She eats it nervously in the front seat of the truck when we drive home, like girls do .  “Why did this have to happen?” she says.  “God wants me to walk.  Why couldn’t this have happened next week?”

“Welcome to the joys of car ownership.”

Cheyenneh was not, to say the least, pleasant to be around after this.  She begged the Vegan to let her drive his car.

“She has a bet with me that she won’t stall my car going around the block,” he said.  “I need money so we’ll be right back.”

They were only gone for a few minutes before the Vegan walked in smiling, his new dollar in his hand.  When she came in, she said, “I suck.”

The Vegan didn’t care how humble she was.  “Hey Cheyenneh,” he said.  “Can I borrow your car?  No wait.  I forgot.  You don’t have one!” 

We got the call this afternoon.  Since they had to take out two transmissions to replace the clutch, it would be over $1,000.  This brings the total price of the new Pathfinder to within dollars of the official Kelly Blue Book value.  If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.  Now it isn’t.

I take the General with me to pick up the Pathfinder.  On the way over she said, “I’m scared of driving now.  I don’t think I can do it.”

“You better,” I said.  “Charlie barely lets me drive his big-ass truck, so don’t even think about it.  You can drive it home.”

“I think I know why the clutch went out.  I put my seat too far forward so my foot rests on the clutch.  It’s my fault.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault,” I said.  She didn’t believe me.

When I was paying the bill I told the office manager, “She thinks it’s her fault the clutch went out.”

“It’s definitely not your fault,” she said.  “You didn’t do it.  I don’t know anything about cars, but Steve tells me things.  He told me it’s not your fault, so I’ll listen to him.”

“I’m a horrible driver,” the General says.  “I’m scared to drive.”

I knew it was too good to be true.  I’ve already driven her five places today.  I hope she knows she’s got driving lessons in her immediate future.

A little help? [] 6:05:29 PM