Love my car, sort of
My car doesn’t fit me, even with an added lift and back support. It really was designed for someone many inches taller than I am. Though I’ve grown to love it’s look, and I always did love it’s color. However, it really is a flatlander’s vehicle— it’s not meant for mountain driving, unless of course you’re just passing through. Sometimes, depending on the day, for added comfort, I pull my seat forward so far that my right knee hits the dash! And, despite its decrepitude, some replacement parts are pricier than I’m willing to pay—like the $100+/- key fob that I’ve stopped replacing because they don’t last long enough to justify the price, or the pneumatic hood support without which requires that I, or my mechanic, prop the hood open with just the right length something. And don’t get me started in the frustration involved in lifting the lid after it’s been released! That said, on the plus side, despite its age and its over 150 thousand miles, my car always starts, and it never leaves me anywhere. It continues to run beautifully—all thanks it’s caretakers, and my understanding of the necessity of regular maintenance. Chuckling to myself, I’ve thought that about the time this car gives up is about the time I’ll be ready to leave the mountains-/one way or the other!
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