To Corolla with love

I got my car painted.....

It needed it. The exterior was looking p-r-e-t-t-y bad. The hood was uber oxidizing and the back bumper was cracking. I had gotten the trunk and top 'spot' painted at different times in the last three years but the fade and breakdown was taking over almost everywhere.

When I bought the car in August of 2006, the body inside and out were in very good shape. An elderly woman from Century Village had owned it. The car only had 14,000 miles on it! It was a 2001 and looked brand new. She literally only drove it from her complex to Publix and back. The engine was spotless. I had just totaled my 96 Saab in a smashup and I had to act fast with the insurance money available. When I found her car it seemed like the practical thing to do. It was not glamorous (it's the most basic Toyota Corolla ever made.) The only extras were a cup holder and a little dash bin where I could keep toll change.)

The insurance check paid for it in entirety and I haven't had a car payment in almost 4 years. The vehicle purrs like a top and is virtually maintenance free. The only problem has been that the previous owner let it 'bake' in the Florida sun. She never waxed it or protected the interior from heat and exposure. Consequently, the deterioration of its exterior was hastened. I tried to stay on top of it but there had been too much early damage. The molding along the interior door jams succumbed to solar stress from almost the beginning. It started pulling away within months of my purchase. Headliners don't do well in this climate either. Material began hanging and pulling loose. I no sooner got it fixed when the door upholstery shrunk from its confines and started peeling off. I had to pin it. Luckily the dash never cracked and I am amazed at its resiliency.

For almost a year, the car's exterior has accelerated its bleach. Wax jobs helped a tiny bit but within days the oxidizing looked like Rorschach test blots. It was apparent I would have to get a total paint job at some point. I was also becoming increasingly embarrassed. To add insult to injury, my headlights were getting that filmy look and getting increasingly cloudy. In short, I was somewhat humiliated to be seen in my car. K Bruce was officially driving a 'beater' and my ego was taking a pounding (no pun intended.) Every time I pulled into a spot next to a shiny car of any caste, mortification welled up. I felt like a shabby old goat cart on radials.

The first time I picked up Raphael for a date I made sure it was dark with little street light. I was worried what he might think a 52 year old was doing in such a vehicle. It would take a while for him to completely understand what a gem this car was. It did look like something a uni-bomber would park in front of his double wide. My persuasive abilities eventually proved to him this car was an Infinity in homeless car clothing. I think the Corolla's incredibly efficient air conditioning convinced him first. His is just OK in his 08 fancy Beetle.

For most of my adult life, I had always had an attractive car or at least an interesting one. I prided myself in what I drove. The Corolla had been bought for prudent reasons and nothing else. It was basic, bland and dependable. I was going to be really responsible and not go for image. I succeeded. One time I parked it at the Ft. Lauderdale airport garage and ran in, not paying close attention to what level and color I left. When I returned, it took me over an hour to find my car. There were at least 10 that looked exactly like it. It was one of the most anonymous autos ever produced. I think I could drive it across the White House lawn and no one would notice.

In a single day it is possible to see at least 50 gray, 'custom' 2001 Corolla sedans on any piece of asphalt. Their utilitarianism is pervasive. They are like the practical shoe of the car world; a pair of colorless Crocks with a steering wheel. This is both good and bad. The good is proof that this car is still running and a gazillion drivers continue operating them. The bad is that their generic appearance makes yours hard to spot in a Target parking lot. Sometimes there might be an identical three parked in a row. I can't tell you how many times I have tried to get in the wrong one and cursed my key for not working. Now I know what Vespa operators must have felt like in the Rome of the 1950s.

In the past I have owned the previously mentioned Saab ( a beautiful quirky, convertible but that constantly whined with ills), a handsome silver Passat, a cherry red Mazda MX-6 ( I loved this one. It was sexy and ergonomic), a sharp and nimble Bronco II, a vintage red and white 1959 Edsel station wagon that was in pristine condition (it was like navigating the Carpathia), a Fiero two seater (adorable but probably not too safe if a semi had hit me) and a sweet, little 74 crimson Mustang II. In college I had a Vega station wagon. It was cute but the clutch went out on it twice in six months. I think it was one of the cheapest cars every produced. Prior to that was my first car: A 69 VW Beetle that was white with a red interior. I truly loved this car even when I had to push it to get it started towards the end of my ownership. The Bug was even a bit fancier than my Corolla. It had a sun roof.

So, given I have owned more alluring cars, none have been as dependable and trustworthy as my current Toyota Wonder Machine. It may be boring but it is a fabulous piece of engineering. I can honestly say that it continues to be the most reliable car of my life. That is why I invested in its paint job. And, I am not stopping. Plans are to continue with some other cosmetic improvements like wheel covers and upholstery fixes. The car costs me nothing and as long as I change the oil and do yearly maintenance; who knows how long it will last. I would be a fool to sell it and get something newer and more luxurious. It only has 42,000 miles and is 9 years old. (Kind of likc Noah Cyrus without the knee high leather boots. (See www.rightcelebrity.com and gag....)

Eventually I will tire of my prudent wisdom and want to move onto something more satisfying. Even then I may keep the thing and use it as a back up ride. This little car of the masses continues to prove its brilliance. Abandoning it too soon would be harsh. I respect its undying cooperation.

Slapping on a new coat of dawn gray was the least I could do for it. Never has there been a more faithful servant with cloth seats and a cup holder.