Our non-Jeep car (not pictured) appears to be sputtering its way toward the premature death that awaits most American-made vehicles. It’s a Dodge Stratus, built in this century. But still it dies. Rust burdens its skin, and the innards are diseased. Sometimes the power locks work; sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the windows won’t open; sometimes they will. And now we can add to the list another on-and-off problem: starting.
I had to jump it in the parking lot of our vet’s office yesterday. So the battery is going bad. Or the alternator. Or there’s a short in the system. Or something else is going on. Or — it wouldn’t surprise me — all of the above. We are witnessing the slow, inevitable, implosion of the vehicle (and perhaps, by proxy, the American auto industry).
So our thoughts turned last night to budgets and the possibility of a new car.
The possibilities are not many. Money, alas, does not grow on trees. We’ve not looked at anything in person, but right now we’re leaning toward the Honda Fit. Yes, it’s small (I’m not going to try, but I’m pretty confident that I could drive over it with the Jeep), but it’s very economical both short- and long-term.
We may go out to look at this and other candidates this weekend, though I remain in constant engagement with my work on the Middle English Paraphrase — my excuse for being scarce around here for a few days.