Bulging tires on a 2013 two-door… money out the window for new tires since I can’t risk injury to my child ever. Tony will get a new set of tires for his beloved car, and he'll also get Candy for a few days to hopefully appreciate her excellence above all other cars; or at the very least appreciate why I love her.
So, I suppose this post is an ode to my Lincoln – a 2011 MKS
bought by me while I was in the throes of grief over having lost my dad two
weeks before buying it. The salesman saw me coming from a mile away, the
vacancy in my eyes as I tried to decipher the everyday tedium of existing
without my dad in the world. He saw tears well in my eyes when I saw the car in
the parking lot, facing the traffic, a big red bow waiting for me to unravel it.
I sat in it and thought “This is our car, Dad. I’m going to drive it out of here today.” And I did.
I named her Candy after a Springsteen
song and a Natalie Merchant line – “Candy everybody wants.”
I handed the keys to Paige the day she got her learner’s
permit and cried. Not because my baby girl had reached a milestone but because
my baby girl would be driving Candy around town.
As often happens, the first accident was a rear-end
accident. Candy was the rear-ender driven by
Paige.
Paige called me, frantic.
“Mom, I got in an accident. I’m on Route 100, I can’t get
out of the road. The cops are coming…” I got in my car and drove as fast as I
could to get to her, driving on the shoulder of the trafficked highway,
following her path on Life360, going to where she was supposed to be.
I got there. I saw part of Candy’s grill on the side of the
road. I didn’t see Paige or Candy. Frantic again, I dialed Paige’s number.
“They made me get off Route 100. Take the first exit.”
Okay. Good.
Candy was hurt and moaned whenever we started her up,
complaining that the right parking sensor was out of whack. I didn’t have the
heart to tell Candy it no longer existed. She could still drive, so all was well.
The second mishap with Paige and Candy happened at three
o’clock in the morning during a snowstorm – a rare snowstorm in Odenton, MD.
“Mom, the wheel fell off Candy.”
“What? What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“Outside, in the intersection coming into the parking lot.”
“TF?”
I pulled on my boots and a winter coat, and there she was.
Paige stood beside her, pointing. “See?”
The wheel was indeed off the car. I had already dialed the
tow truck and he was pulling up as I mourned the loss of another piece of
Candy.
It was towed, the wheel falling off was part of something
that was still under warranty – even 10 years later because that’s how Lincoln
does…
“I don’t want to drive this car anymore.”
Waah… you don’t want to drive a luxury car with 375 horsepower, power everything, leather everything, and…
“What?
You’re nuts.”
In comes the piece of shit 2015 Ford Escort or Escape or
whatever the slimy used car salesman sold me. Paige was happy. She got a hatchback
piece of shit instead of a regular old piece of shit.
Candy was mine again. I loved her and hugged her but didn’t
get her fixed up. Tony was next.
I handed the keys to him. He was happy to have her and parked
Candy nicely on the side of the road, out of harm’s way.
In the morning, I heard him leave for school.
“Wait, why am I hearing him leave for school?” I peered
through the window and there they went – Tony and Candy. Candy no longer had mufflers.
When he got back from school, I greeted him outside.
“TF?”
“Oh,” he giggled. “It sounds so much better. I want to get
the air intake…”
“No,” I interrupted.
“No, it’ll be cool..”
“No.”
End of story until Tony calls me and says, “You’ll never
believe what happened to Candy.”
I sighed and imagined my bank account leaking dollar, dollar
bills yo.
“A rock fell out of the back of some guy's trailer, flew in
the air, and landed on the sunroof. The entire sunroof smashed. What should I
do?”
“TF?”
He sent me pictures of the vehicle that was supposedly in
front of him with the license plate. “You should call the insurance company.
Make him pay. Maybe you’ll get a new car out of the deal.”
Teenagers know nothing.
Then Tony said, “I don’t want to drive this car anymore.”
“You’re nuts. She’s an amazing car.”
After I said this, Tony looked at Paige and they rolled
their eyes in unison.
Okay, so I finally had no reason to keep her. I decided I’d
throw in the towel and just donate her for a tax break after I got Tony a new
car – a 2013 Scion that grew bulging tires over the last few months.
We were at dinner with Ben, my husband’s son.
“Yeah, I’m just going to donate her…”
“Are you going to donate her to me?” Ben looked at his dad
and shrugged.
Candy was back in the game. Ben would drive her.
She had some trouble starting – a bit of the Covid got her I
suppose. Ben became proficient in using jumper cables.
Then one day he said, “I don’t want to drive this car anymore.”
I rejoiced! I jumped up and down when he parked it in my
driveway with a nice dent along the entire passenger side, and immediately began cleaning out the dirt of
three teenagers – garbage, shoes, clothes, the engine cover in the trunk…
pieces that had broken off the interior.
I scrubbed that car all day, cursing all of them,
apologizing to Candy and swearing to take care of her forevermore.
But since I’m a good Mom, and Candy is the savior of all
cars, I let Tony borrow her for the week so I could pay to get new tires on his
2013 piece of not-a-Lincoln-car.
He called me about an hour into the drive back to Maryland. “Mom,
Candy’s not doing well. When I floor it, she barely accelerates.”
“Don’t fucking floor her.” I nearly cried. “Please just take
care of her so I can get her fixed up. Your car will be done on Friday. Please
take care of her until then.
“Uh, okay.”
Flooring it… TF?
They can all roll their eyes – my children, his children,
him, the dog, the neighbor, the mechanic.
Roll away…
Candy is mine. She’s all mine from now on.
