Car Talk

The more time I spend without Janet, the more I realize just how much less annoying the world was with her around. For one, she was the mistress of "fixing the little stuff". Perhaps that's a reversal of traditional gender roles, as I was the cook and tidier (not that I was ever allowed to touch her desk)(desk loosely defined as the office, office floor and dining table), and she was the one who would deal with things like wrestling with the taxes and buying cars. But, as Clint Eastwood once said, a man's got to know his limitations.

I was thinking about this as I was getting the alternator fixed. That's my former "airport car", that is, a car capable of usually making it to the airport and back. Janet always boasted about how she got it for $400, as she'd found out about a California smoggy car buyback program. Our beloved Tercel, "Mel", had finally failed the annual smog check. It was a sad day, as that beast had been with us since the day we started out "not dates", me driving her to the grocery store in exchange for flute lessons. 330,000 miles later, we'd traveled across the country multiple times, east to west and north to south, with side trips to Canada and Mexico. But Mel had acquired the car equivalent of old man smell, and we had to put him down. But thanks to Janet, the state gave us $1000 for doing so (California residents, look it up, but you have to be fast-- usually they run out of money just a few weeks into the fiscal year).

Consulting with our mechanic, Janet was able to find another car for $1400, for a net of $400. She always did the bargaining, again something she was good at. I remember the car dealer who sold us the car before that telling me that she was a toughie. Car dealers say lots of things, but he looked so mournful that I believed him (perhaps tellingly, the dealership went out of business shortly thereafter) . Janet's schtick was to look up all the local prices on that model, bluebook, etc, then go in with her price in mind and a mechanical checklist. She didn't put up with nonsense, either. No, you can't have her keys-- not unless you want her teeth in your arm.
So, she got her "$400 car", and danced her usual "Yay for me!" dance. Then she asked me to make Fred, our mechanic, a cake for all his help. Lemon bundt, if memory serves. Well, hey, I can do some things. And hey, Janet also knitted and I drink beer. So it wasn't as if we were adverse to some traditional gender roles. But we'd never let it get in the way of getting a good deal on a car.

Never could get her to change the oil, though.