The title is a phrase from Incubus’ Talkshows on Mute, then there is of course Orsen Wells’ 1984, the first Terminator story was set in 1984, and on May of that year, Australia released it’s first one dollar coin, a factoid I insidiously placed there purely to round out this paragraph, which of course is quite irrelevant and uninteresting, except of course to Australians.
At any rate I’m bringing your attention to 1984 because I’m about to talk about my car, which was first sold to its original owner in 1984, and is an otherwise uninteresting car if not for that fact.
At this point you might well discern that this post is about a car, and not about my usual subjects, such as tech reviews, writing and even basketball, and you will be correct. So those uninterested in said subject may well excuse themselves at this point.
What, you’re still there? Alright then, here it is.
How it looked like when it was being worked on October 2004, in our garage in our old house in Mandaluyong.
How it looked like last week, in another garage along Ortigas Ave. extension, Cainta.
How it looks like brand new.
Should you also discern the delay between the first two pictures as an appreciable amount of time, you will be correct once again. It has taken me almost two years, and approximately P50,000.00 to repaint, re-fix, redo quite a bit.
And now, I’m sure, questions arise, to which I shall try to address.
Why has it taken so long? Well my usual answer is to say it’s because back in Mandaluyong, everything was so near that commuting was never an issue, and that would be quite correct.
Back in Mandaluyong, a cab ride to Makati cost approximately P55.00, same as with Ortigas Avenue or Greenhills, which was excellent since those were the addresses I most frequented.
Thusly, I took my time getting it fixed, which is quite understandable since I was of the correct opinion that traversing distances between my house and areas I frequent via car was far too much trouble, with the exceptions of when I had to carry numerous baggage or items, (which at any rate was addressed by hiring a cab). And so I only continued its repair (it stayed in our garage in that state for months) when I had extra funds for it, which is to say, very rarely.
Now of course, we live in the mountainous region of scenic Cainta, to which I place an appropriate picture:
Inspiring scenery notwithstanding, the opposite of the Mandaluyong situation now holds true. The commute is very difficult, wherever you are going, even if it’s to the Valley Golf area (the one with the large golf ball along Ortigas Avenue), which requires a longish hike plus a long wait for any of only three jeepneys that service our area, all of which seems in a state of constant disrepair, not to mention the fact they only service up to 11pm, requiring a cab ride (with the promise of extra tippage) just to get home from said golf ball area when late.
In other words, it’s a hassle.
Hence, the car.
Next up,why this car? Which is answerable three fold, primarily by the fact that it’s a kind of ‘hand me down’ from my sister, who found no more use for it after realizing the arduous lengths to which one has to exert in its resurrection.
Fortunately (or otherwise), I consider myself handy with things mechanical, and since the car had not had an accident and possessed original underpinnings, both necessary for a proper restoration, I undertook the project with fervor, again in the manner of continuing only when funds permit – a practice I recommend to anyone who may possess the luxury of time and given the ease of commute as I did (see above).
Another version of “Why this car?” suggests the more exacting question “why a 22 year old car?”, and my answer would be two-fold. Firstly, it’s not so bad if you look at it, as although it is old the innards are quite operational and it has not yet figured in an accident, meaning that in the proper hands it can be quite (and is currently) reliable.
Secondly, the alternative is to sell it, which sadly, works quite against my favor as the market for such items is quite low. I will have to sell the car at a value for much less I have spent on it, so low that I will not be able to buy anything else. In other words, I may have cash, but no car. And I need a car.
Alternatively, the emotional factor also puts a word into the fray, as other than being a ‘hand me down’ (well not really, that issue is rather complicated), I have grown (gasp) attached to it, in the manner of how someone would end up liking something due to the sheer amount of time and work spent together.
Alright at this point after several paragraphs, I suppose I need to come up with a point to all this. Actually there isn’t much, other than to say that my mind is mostly on my car, being a motorhead in an earlier life, and the fact that I started writing this blogpost as an exercise to get my writing muscles working so I can start writing articles, which is the reason for most of my blogposts actually.
I need to submit two articles before tonight, the length of time shortened by the fact that I want to play basketball with the village dudes around 430 or 5pm later, so I better get cracking and submit at least one before then. Yes that would be ideal.
Goodness it was so hot today.