Nutcracker

I am not a tall person. And when I drive other people's cars, I have to adjust the seat forward so my wee little legs can reach the pedals. I learned quickly that the considerate thing to do is to pull the seat back after I'm done, or when I think someone else is going to drive my car (like at the mechanic's).

My dad, getting into a car that I had driven without putting back the seat, used to curse a bit and famously yell, "Nutcracker!" Nowadays, when I hear the word "nutcracker" I think of my dad first, and the ballet second.

The car in the above photo is a 1996 Saturn. My dad bought it in October 2005. But even with the seat adjusted exactly the way he liked it, he found it to be a little small for him. He really wanted an SUV, and in April of 1997 he sold me the car. It had less than 10,000 miles on it and seemed practically new, especially to someone who had only ever driven well-used secondhand cars. For years, I kept it pristine, and once fussed at my mom for leaving an empty coffee cup in it.

Round about 2001, the car started to decline, and I figured I only had a couple of years left with it. Plus, I moved into my new house and found out that the driveway was a magnet for pooping birds. The car never stayed clean on the outside, and I let it get cluttered and yucky on the inside, too. The last time we cleaned it out, we unloaded several bags' worth of trash, newspapers and magazines, and even clothes from the seats.

And the last time we cleaned it out was this past Saturday morning. We cleaned the car inside and out, so it gleamed, as you can see in the above photo. C. took the photo as I told the Saturn goodbye. We drove it to the Subaru dealership, where they offered us a trade-in price that didn't seem low when you consider that the car was a teenager and had hail damage all over it and more than 103K miles on the odometer. I wonder if they'll even bother trying to resell it.

We had started new-car shopping in August 2007, but after a month of looking around, decided to wait and see how much longer the Saturn could keep going. I had just started working at the university and we figured (correctly) that I wouldn't be driving the car as much as I had when I worked in Westlake, anyway. The idea was that as soon as it needed a major, expensive repair we would replace it.

Fifteen months later, the car had a slight tendency to burn oil, and I was worried the tires might need replacing, but it was still getting me where I needed to go. Last Friday, C. pointed out that we might be able to get some good end-of-year deals on a new car, and it was better to buy a car before the old one crapped out, and why not go car shopping when we both had the time off?

By Saturday afternoon, the Saturn had changed hands, and I drove off the dealership lot in a brand-new 2008 Subaru sedan. I no longer have to tell people not to push the buttons to lock the doors because the locks are old and fidgety -- in fact, I have keyless entry fobs again. The rear windows work properly. Bits of foam from the ceiling no longer fall on my head. I can plug my iPod into the car, instead of having no other music option than the radio (even the cigarette lighter broke on the Saturn). This means I may listen to NPR less, though. I don't have to wonder what I'll do if the car doesn't pass inspection.

I have a new car, and it couldn't be better. This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you how I'm still a bit wistful and nostalgic for the old car, and I bet my dad is, too. But no. New car! Woo hoo! My dad was thrilled when I told him over the phone.

But when my husband got in the new car last night to drive it, I hadn't pushed the seat back, and he frowned and grumbled the tiniest bit and pushed it where he wanted it. And I was, in fact, the tiniest bit wistful because unlike my dad, he doesn't yell, "Nutcracker!" Will the term ever be used for the new car? Probably not.

Posted at December 29, 2008 09:37 AM