I always win

I've been devouring recent media coverage (including some in Swedish, with the help of Google Translate) about the rocky state of affairs at SAAB , and I'm pretty heartbroken/crushed ( förkrossade ) about it all. What I hadn't considered was how Mrs. Viggen * felt. This morning, she was so verklempt that she blew her rad out. Luckily, I had a safe place to immediately pull over to. I shut her down, opened the hood, and called a tow truck. Her first owner took delivery in October 1999; I got her in March 2003. The radiator was original; I certainly don't judge it for failing after 12 years / 136000 km. The experts at Beacon Motors had a new rad installed by 3 p.m. I'm back home now, looking out at her... parked in her spot. I love this car. I love SAAB. * SAAB 9-5 Wagon + SAAB 37 Viggen jet fighter + Carol Burnett's "Mrs. Wiggins" = Mrs. Viggen articles Looks Like Saab's Last Gasp (Motor Trend) "Inside Saab" blog post on the applicatio...

It's an overdue post, but since I'm already up with insomnia, here is an update on my vacation to area code 807 . You know you're in northwestern Ontario when you start seeing Robin's Donuts stores. Here's a shot of my take-out Robin's coffee early in the morning of July 20th, on the Trans-Canada Highway just west of White River. 1800 km from Toronto, and this is far as Mrs. Viggen* can take me. My family's cabin is another few kilometres by boat. Note the gorgeous Red Pine . The sound of the wind flowing through its needles is beyond calming. * my car's nickname The Bald Eagle population is thriving. The view from my bedroom window. I had a great time. Unfortunately, when I came back to Toronto, there was a total shitstorm at work, and I've been trying to recover ever since. Increased dosages of anti-depressants are helping, as is a strong ethic of "I don't give a fuck."

I wrote in June that I know how to change a spare tire. Unfortunately, I didn't pay attention to the placement of the tools in the cargo area as I was removing them. After I changed the tire, I just pitched everything back in. A couple of weeks later -- after getting two new tires -- I had a chance to put everything back in its place. I knew the compact spare went in a certain way, and was secured with a threaded disc. What I couldn't figure out was how to get the toolkit (jack, lug wrench, tow eye, etc. all packed in a neat polystyrene form) to fit. No matter how I tried laying it out, I couldn't get the cargo area floor access hatch to close. Consulting the owner's manual was no help. It gave detailed instructions for the sedan, but not my model (the wagon). I pulled up a lawn chair to the back of my car, sat down, and tinkered for an hour. Finally, with my head on the bumper, peering into the cavern of my car's innards, I got it. The polystyrene toolkit l...

There's a certain peace that comes over me when I realize I can just walk away from a stressful situation. Pull the cord on the emergency chute. This is the type of calm that settled over me tonight during a careening ride through rush hour Toronto traffic in a beat-up Beck taxi--a ride paid for by my car dealership; no doubt because I got General Motors Canada involved in a little "disagreement" about the latest service incident with my car. Tonight , I decided, is the last time I deal with Midtown Saturn Saab . I can pay this ridiculous bill, walk out the door, and never come back... I blogged about these car troubles on the 16th and the 19th. The trouble on the 19th (howling noise from engine; fluid leaking out) turned out to be a loose power steering hose, right under the top radiator hose. The very radiator that the dealer did a flush & fill on last week. No, I know . Completely unrelated . I was informed of this over the phone this morning. In addition...

Wednesday, November 16th : I bring the car home after paying a $2800 repair bill. This morning : I go to use my car for the first time since Wednesday. After starting the engine, I notice a howling sound. It doesn't go away. I decide to try and drive (slowly) to the dealer, but the howling sound becomes a screaming sound if I touch the steering wheel. I turn the car off. The engine has seemingly barfed yellow-green fluid (coolant?) onto the pavement. I go back inside, call the dealership, and speak with the service manager. He agrees to pay for a tow truck. This post is in case anyone was wondering why I entitled my blog I always win .

$2807.14 is, for me, a lot of money. It's four months of rent. It's roughly my annual grocery budget. But today, that is the amount I spent getting my Saab fixed. What started off on Friday as a trip to the dealer to repair a fault in the alarm system ended up being a whole bunch of service that: a) the car needed b) can be viewed as preventative c) would have cost me a great deal more on separate trips (think disassembled European car engine, then think $109 hourly shop labour rate) d) the previous owner (who leased the car from the very dealership I bought it from) neglected to do * My horoscope for Friday said that I shouldn't buy anything. Perhaps that's why I nodded and said yes--with what I'm guessing was a glazed look in my eyes--to all of the service items. It was one of my Mary Richards moments. You know--where she looks at the price of the meat, rolls her eyes, and tosses it in the shopping cart. It's ironic that I drive one of the safest vehi...