Live or Let Die?
This is my car. Its name is Donnie. Donnie is named after Steve Buscemi's character in The Big Lebowski.
Donnie and I have a special relationship. Owing to the fact that I was a miserable and dangerous driver in high school who was fortuitously relieved of his license almost as soon as he got it; and to the fact that I moved to New York City when I was 18 and stayed there until I was nearly 40; owing to these circumstances, Donnie was the first car I ever bought.
Donnie is a 2001 Ford Focus. He's not that old in car years, but he's definitely been through the wars. Between numerous family visits (Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Atlanta) and even more vacations (western North Carolina, the Carolina coast, the Delaware Coast, New York City), Donnie has logged some serious miles. It won't be long before Donnie logs his 130,000th mile, in fact.
Donnie still drives great. He has plenty of get up and go both from a dead stop and on highway onramps, he gets great mileage (about 36 mpg on the highway), and he still handles great in turns. He is as fun to drive as any reasonable person can expect an inexpensive sedan to be. However, Donnie is a Ford, which means that he is an American car, which means that before he was built someone somewhere in an office in Detroit spent a lot of time figuring out how to take this perfectly well designed car (the Focus got its start in Europe) and f##k it up. That someone decided to skimp on some peripherals, no doubt calculating that the resulting savings of $.057 per car might ultimately cover his salary while simultaneously making millions of people like myself very, very angry at Ford, so angry that we swear we will never buy another Ford as long as we live, nor in any subsequent lives we may live, should we be reincarnated.
For instance, a seal on the right side of my windshield failed some time around mile 90,000; this caused the footwell of the front passenger seat to fill with water whenever it rained. Search the net for the terms FOCUS, PASSENGER, FOOTWELL, and BUCKETS OF WATER and you will learn this has happened to nearly every Ford Focus, yet there was never a recall. The dealer knew exactly what my problem was when I called to complain, and how much it would cost me to have it repaired. The question "Why should I have to pay for it?" elicited a shrug and a "Whaddayagonnado?" response I hadn't heard since leaving New York.
Another place where Ford skimped was in a plastic clip that holds the power windows in place. Again, seach the net and you will learn just how many people have had the unhappy surprise of opening their power windows, hearing the bright snap of plastic, and realizing that that window will never close properly again. Again, no recall. Here is a picture of Donnie's rear passenger window.
Recently, Donnie and I reached a crossroads. As previously mentioned, Donnie is approaching 130,000 miles. That means he was very much in need of a new timing belt ($220). He also needed a new set of tires ($360). Making these repairs basically meant committing to another three years with Donnie, begging the question "Should I get that broken power window fixed?" ($300). And what about the other rear passenger window, which, if it's like the rear window on so many other 2001 Ford Focuses, is soon about to snap its clip and descend into the door? Am I ready to sink a pile of cash into a car with 130,000 miles on it?
The decision, it turns out, wasn't such a difficult one. Donnie and I, we're buds. I'm not going to abandon him. Not until I can afford a really pimped out Mini Cooper, anyway, which I currently cannot. So Donnie got a new timing belt and a new set of tires to go with his new clutch (at 120,000 miles). We (Donnie and I, that is) decided that the duct-taped window was "cool," so that remains unrepaired. Soon it will have a parallel twin, no doubt.
Nefarious Ford man in your office somewhere, Donnie and I await the inevitable result of your other niggardly decisions. Fortunately you appear to have had nothing to do with designing engines and drivetrains, so while all your knickknacks and gewgaws break, degrade, disintegrate, and explode, Donnie and I will continue choogling on down the road.
At least until I can afford that Mini.
Donnie and I have a special relationship. Owing to the fact that I was a miserable and dangerous driver in high school who was fortuitously relieved of his license almost as soon as he got it; and to the fact that I moved to New York City when I was 18 and stayed there until I was nearly 40; owing to these circumstances, Donnie was the first car I ever bought.
Donnie is a 2001 Ford Focus. He's not that old in car years, but he's definitely been through the wars. Between numerous family visits (Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Atlanta) and even more vacations (western North Carolina, the Carolina coast, the Delaware Coast, New York City), Donnie has logged some serious miles. It won't be long before Donnie logs his 130,000th mile, in fact.
Donnie still drives great. He has plenty of get up and go both from a dead stop and on highway onramps, he gets great mileage (about 36 mpg on the highway), and he still handles great in turns. He is as fun to drive as any reasonable person can expect an inexpensive sedan to be. However, Donnie is a Ford, which means that he is an American car, which means that before he was built someone somewhere in an office in Detroit spent a lot of time figuring out how to take this perfectly well designed car (the Focus got its start in Europe) and f##k it up. That someone decided to skimp on some peripherals, no doubt calculating that the resulting savings of $.057 per car might ultimately cover his salary while simultaneously making millions of people like myself very, very angry at Ford, so angry that we swear we will never buy another Ford as long as we live, nor in any subsequent lives we may live, should we be reincarnated.
For instance, a seal on the right side of my windshield failed some time around mile 90,000; this caused the footwell of the front passenger seat to fill with water whenever it rained. Search the net for the terms FOCUS, PASSENGER, FOOTWELL, and BUCKETS OF WATER and you will learn this has happened to nearly every Ford Focus, yet there was never a recall. The dealer knew exactly what my problem was when I called to complain, and how much it would cost me to have it repaired. The question "Why should I have to pay for it?" elicited a shrug and a "Whaddayagonnado?" response I hadn't heard since leaving New York.
Another place where Ford skimped was in a plastic clip that holds the power windows in place. Again, seach the net and you will learn just how many people have had the unhappy surprise of opening their power windows, hearing the bright snap of plastic, and realizing that that window will never close properly again. Again, no recall. Here is a picture of Donnie's rear passenger window.
Recently, Donnie and I reached a crossroads. As previously mentioned, Donnie is approaching 130,000 miles. That means he was very much in need of a new timing belt ($220). He also needed a new set of tires ($360). Making these repairs basically meant committing to another three years with Donnie, begging the question "Should I get that broken power window fixed?" ($300). And what about the other rear passenger window, which, if it's like the rear window on so many other 2001 Ford Focuses, is soon about to snap its clip and descend into the door? Am I ready to sink a pile of cash into a car with 130,000 miles on it?
The decision, it turns out, wasn't such a difficult one. Donnie and I, we're buds. I'm not going to abandon him. Not until I can afford a really pimped out Mini Cooper, anyway, which I currently cannot. So Donnie got a new timing belt and a new set of tires to go with his new clutch (at 120,000 miles). We (Donnie and I, that is) decided that the duct-taped window was "cool," so that remains unrepaired. Soon it will have a parallel twin, no doubt.
Nefarious Ford man in your office somewhere, Donnie and I await the inevitable result of your other niggardly decisions. Fortunately you appear to have had nothing to do with designing engines and drivetrains, so while all your knickknacks and gewgaws break, degrade, disintegrate, and explode, Donnie and I will continue choogling on down the road.
At least until I can afford that Mini.
posted by Tom Meltzer @ 4:24 PM
3 Comments:
At 7:36 AM ,
Anonymous said...
Your future shall be a grinding one, odiferous with the stench of leaking fuel, oozing lubricants, and burning fuses. And you shall cry unto the laughing Gods:
"Why, Gods? Why didst thou let me anthropomorphise my fackin' car? It's just a fackin' CAR!"
And Detroit shall rejoice in your suffering. And then a great mist shall ascend o'er your eyes, and you'll be as dead as 'Donnie'.
Sorry.
At 7:46 AM ,
Tom Meltzer said...
Why Nostradamus... how uncharacteristically specific of you!!! Ah well, we all gotta go sometime, and if we gotta, what's the point of buying a new car, huh?
You are eerily correct about the fuse, BTW--the fuse for the cigarette lighter blew just the other day (no, I'm not smoking again--I use the outlet to recharge my phone). Hmmmm.... spooky.
At 1:42 PM ,
Steve Greenfield said...
I had the same questions about my old car (components wearing out, replacing parts vs. replacing car, etc.), but mine had three broken power windows that kept descending of their own free will. Only the driver's window worked. We kept them up by jamming little bits of folded up paper between the window and the frame, but they had to be refreshed regularly. Then the alternator died, and took the battery with it, and we were aware that routine replacement of brakes, belts, and other nuisance items would soon be required, and just about paid for when the tires would come due, etc. So we ditched.
We went with a special used car that we hope will soon release us from our bondage (and contributors to global mayhem) as oil industry consumers.
It's a VW diesel Jetta. I haven't measured it yet from a full tank, but anecdotal evidence from many sources suggests we could expect 45 to sometimes just over 50 on the highway. But the real test will be when we install our veggie oil converter kit (described at www.greasecar.com). A friend of mine did it to a much older and more beat up Jetta than ours, and he says he gets around 50 on the highway. It can't hurt that the nasty diesel smell will be replaced by a french fry smell, but we'll find out.
I was pushed over the hump into getting the Jetta when I looked inside the trunk. It has, bar none, the most spacious trunk in its size class. Very deep. It's possible that can explain the narrow legroom in the back, but my kids are small and I need a big trunk. I can easily fit both main speakers from my PA in there, and still have the three seats in the back. I can also fold down the rear seats in combos: one seat down, two up; two seats down, one up; or all three down. This gives me wagon-like storage as suits the job, while preserving as much passenger space as the storage needs permit. Good factory stereo, too.
Of course now I'm a Jew with a VW, which is probably one step worse than being a Jew with a Ford, but with all those VW's being driven around Israel, including government vehicles, I figure I'm off the hook on whatever guilt I should be feeling (already mitigated by the incredible mileage and the option of filling up out of a local restaurant's grease trap instead of at Mobil).
Plus I don't have to worry about looking like a coed on my way to TGIF, and people on the links can distinguish my car from my golf cart.
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