Bad Girl Betsy

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I purchased a car. My first car. My beloved. I named her Betsy. I took her for a test drive. You know how they say, "you just know"? I just knew. She was the girl for me.

She's a 99. Older model, but solid. And I stood by her and loved her when she was discriminated against for her color (a modest silver) and when the haters commented on her big bone structure and large rear end. To me, she was beautiful.(Betsy and I when we were both much younger)

We were a team. We went almost everywhere together. I knew that I could count on her to see me through the many miles that I drove. And I drove a lot! Loquetta+Betsy=Dream Team.

But, like many relationships, ours did begin to show signs of strain. The first time I remember worrying about it was on the day before I was supposed to depart for Italy. She wouldn't start. I needed deodorant. No matter what you may say, I need deo for the b.o. when I go to another country. I knew she thought I was leaving her. I even think she heard a conversation about me getting on a plane. There was no way to reassure her that I would return, the damage was done. After I replaced her battery I found out that the real problem was her starter. It cost me 60 dollars to have her towed a block. I may never get over that. Ha.

Doubts crept into the back of my mind. Would she leave me stranded like this again? But, we'd had so many good years I let my heartache (headache too!) slip from my mind.

After that low point we had more good times and many more good miles. The summer I met CD Betsy and I had another setback. One of the most lovely aspects of CD's character is that he is a servant by nature. He is also pretty handy around cars. And, to someone who describes her car as "silver", that's hot. (I just threw up in my mouth a little there. Anyway, the point is he is super neat to have around when Betsy has a meltdown.)

So that summer she began to do scary things while on the road. I took her to the nearest shop (Wal-Mart. Don't do it!) and they told me that I needed a new alternator. Ummm....okay. However, they don't do that kind of stuff so I would need to find someone who could put it in for me. CD offered to do it. I think my eyes turned into little hearts.

The next Spring Betsy once again acted out. Her engine would rev sometimes and she would get really rough when in an idle position. Sometimes she just wouldn't start. Period.

My mother had me take her to a shop in town. The mechanic prayed over her (literally) and made a very expensive repair. I soon found out that didn't really fix the problem. That summer CD and I went to visit his family and on the way my radiator (or something) boiled over.

Again, she went to the shop. The replaced her thermostat. The problem was still not fixed, and now her heater does not works as well. (Thanks a lot, Camdenton Ford!)

Still. Not. Fixed. My parents took her to a guy they knew in Iowa. He replaces spark plugs and all sorts of junk. Again, lots of money. Again, not fixed.

For the record, let me say that I loudly and repeatedly said she was still unwell. I knew she was trying to communicate with me, but I don't speak car. I can't even pick up the tones. Our relationship was so far from the happy place it had once been. I couldn't even trust her to go down to the grocery store. I lived with a constant worry hanging over my head.

Recently, my mother has again demanded that we get her to a safe place that can help her. (Moms are like that.) The first place simply said she needed her head gasket replaced. (Read: 1200 dollars.) Then, we took her to a second place and the mechanic though she needed to have the gasket and the catalytic converter replaced (Read: 1750 dollars). The final place we have visited suggests that she just needs a fuel injector replaced (Read: 500 dollars).

I don't like guessing games. And neither does Betsy. I miss the way our relationship used to be. I used her, but she liked it. I was good to her and she was good to me. Sigh. Even after all we've been through the thought of sending her to the crusher breaks my heart. She's not as young as she used to be, but she deserves a happy life with another young girl. Oh Betsy, what have we become?

Read: I'm poor and Betsy ain't making my life easy.