Erin The Great

I own a 2002 Mini Cooper that I drive like Stella Bridger on the ‘The Italian Job’ and I love the looks I get from guys when I’m driving my car. It’s a very strong look of the undeserving. Like I could possibly be a girl and actually drive my car the way it should be driven… I have news for you guys; I drive my car more then appropriately (like a bat out of hell). So don’t you worry!

I took my car in for an oil change earlier today, and of course received ‘the look’ as I drove up and handed my key over to the scruffy looking mechanic. After waiting for an hour completely zoned in the book I was reading (They Shoot Canoes Don’t They by Patrick McManus in case anyone is interested) I heard my name called. Awesome! DB loves getting her oil changed and I was very excited to drive her home. As I approached the counter I could see that the look in the mechanic’s eye was one of an inquisitive nature. ‘Super’ I thought to myself as I braced myself for the usual lecture. ‘I love it when you bring your car in’ said the man. ‘Thanks…’ I replied. ‘You have no idea how badly I want to take your car out to the salt flats and see how well she corners!’ he exclaimed. ‘Maybe next time’ I replied. He then went into the usual spiel on how I should be driving my car. ‘I don’t know how you’re driving your car but…yada yada doesn’t matter because everything he mentioned I already do (when cops aren’t around)’. ‘Thanks man, I’ll remember that’ I said simply as I left the garage. Guys are funny. But I appreciate the advice anyway.

Like most people who have lived somewhere for an extended amount of time, I have managed to accumulate a bunch of stuff. As I think about it, the only thing that I loathe to part from is the previous live of my life.

As I’ve previously written about Obie I haven’t brought you up to date on his demise. Back in October I remember ranting about the fact that it would be impossible to register my car in the state of Utah due to the fact that my car is a genuine POS. Obie was the best car aside from the actual running part. He like many POS cars had his quirks. He didn’t like to start until you opened the door, stuck your leg out giving it a little push on the pavement (This was tricky business in heels). His seatbelts were broken and the windows wouldn’t roll down, the AC didn’t work, the windshield wipers wouldn’t shut off, and the review mirror liked to fall down… a lot. Every accident he was involved in was never my doing, so I felt bad that he looked like he’d been through the wringer, and last but not least the semi-political bumper stickers that added a certain something to his appeal.

Unfortunately Obie died last November leaving me grieving until I found a new car to get me through the hard times. Enter ‘D.B. Cooper’. D.B Cooper (The DB stands for Delilah Belle) is a beautiful green Mini Cooper and the new love of my life. After the passing of Obie, I was looking for a car that had 1 of 3 things. After the amazing POS, I wasn’t too picky about my next car. The only things that I required was AC, a stick shift (I’m not a fan of automatics) and cup holders! That’s right I said cup holders! Obie lacked all of these things. I only feel slightly bad that I traded him for a newer, younger and more pimped out model. But I had to move on… I couldn’t dwell in the past. Now I’m stuck with Obie dead in my parking garage and D.B. Parked next door to a big van so bad guys don’t see her and take advantage.

I was thinking of possible ways to get rid of Obie in a respectful way aside from KSL or Craig’s List. I had the idea of going to a canyon and putting him about 50 yards from the edge of the cliff. I’d find a tree on one side of the canyon and attach a rope to another tree across the canyon, and then I’d attach a harness to myself and stand on the top of Obie and have someone put a brick on the gas pedal. As Obie goes flying off the cliff in a ball of flames, I’ll be flying over head watching the awesome wreckage. In an Ideal world this is how I would chose to depart from Obie but alas! So… should you want a very dead Ford that I’ve been currently using as a storage unit, please let me know. Not to disgrace Obie’s memory (may it live long) but I’ll sell him to you cheap.

Ever since I was a child I heard of stories from my family and relatives about the evils of the DMV. It wasn’t until I was 15 and went to go take the test for my learners permit that I truly understood what they were talking about.

           Going to the DMV is like going to the dentist for a root canal. Most of the time you show up, wait half your life time in back of someone who is seemingly at the end of their rapidly fraying rope or someone who wasn’t informed of the invention of soap. When you finally reach the counter to do whatever you came to do (and secretly wish you’d done via the internet or the mail) you are usually standing in front of someone who’d rather see you die a horrible and painful death, then actually help you.

I’m not quite sure why DMV employees are all that disgruntled, mainly because I think jobs like; postal worker, banker, or retail assoc. pretty much have the market cornered on that one. I honestly think that the experience of the DMV is more painful for the patrons and as customers we usually are the disgruntled ones leaving the establishment…. That is unless you live in Utah Valley, then you REALLY have something to complain about.

In most states, the process of registering your car, changing over your license, or even changing over a car title seems painful but relatively simple right? You go to the Department of Motor Vehicles and you can accomplish all these tasks under one roof. This is not the case in Utah Valley. They have three, count them 3 different places where you can do said ‘tasks’ but none of the others things you need done. It’s sort of ironic that this would be the case in a ‘dry state’ when normal DMV experiences would usually drive one to drink.

One day I needed to do all three of the errands mentioned above and I had to crawl all over creation just to accomplish it. On one side of the city is where you register your car if it’s never been registered in the state of Utah. For registration renewal, that’s a whole other building. The second location on the opposite end of the city is where you change an out of state driver’s license to a Utah one but you can’t renew a current driver’s license there, you have to go back over across town to renew…its asinine! Not to mention taking an already painful process and REALLY making it memorable.

If you’ve purchased a car in a state that doesn’t have sales tax i.e. Oregon, do not I repeat DO NOT register your car in a state where sales tax is enforced, because you’ll have to pay ALL of the sales tax at time of registration… I learned that one the hard way.

I’m beginning to think that they operate on a ‘we can do whatever we want because we’re protected under a million laws so therefore we get to screw over everyone’. You’d think they’d have the decency to buy me dinner first.

I’m thinking that I should remember to take a sedative next time… or just take my chances with the police.

It’s that time of year again where I inhale, cross my fingers and hope beyond hope that my car passes safety and emissions.

For those who have no Idea what I’m talking about, the safety and emissions test is the test that your car goes through to be registered by the state, thus proclaiming it ‘street legal’.

I grew up in Oregon where you could register anything with wheels. As long as you could get it started, then registered it could become! One of the funniest things when I was a kid was being in the car and having my dad play ‘That’s my car’. Basically my dad would look at on coming traffic and say ‘Erin gets a ____ insert car here’. It was an awesome game that gave you a wide spectrum of cars. You received cars from the Mercedes, Lexus, and Mustang genre to the lower end models such as Novas and Gremlins.

The best part of this game was when my dad would start with one of us naming who got what car and then suddenly proclaim that someone got a ‘beater’. These cars were barely recognizable as cars, which is why they received the ‘beater’ status. My family would keep ‘beater’ counts as to who had how many ‘beaters’ and our ‘beater’ numbers were usually astronomical.

Being a ‘beater or POS’ car owner myself, I understand why we never up grade. Not once did the people back home think ‘oh man, I have about thirty things wrong with my car, I’d better go get those fixed so the state will let me drive my car’. I love my POS car! Granted, the windshield wipers don’t shut off, most of the seatbelts are broken, the windows don’t roll down, it has a very special ‘I reak like vinegar’ smell that I haven’t been able to locate, the AC is broken, and I’m just waiting until my car throws a rod when I’m cruising down the street, but my POS car Obie is the freaking love of my life!! How can I part with such a gem?

There is no way under this Green Earth that the state of Utah will register my car! This displeases me to epic proportions to think that I must part with my car! The thing that gets me is people look at my car and say ‘what a piece of crap’! No kidding Sherlock, but my car can hear you and you’re making him feel bad! Since when did people stop looking at things with a sentimental eye? I’m very aware that my car is a glorified POS but I shouldn’t have to get rid of it just because it’s barely street legal. It has character! I’ve learned that if you rub the dashboard, he goes faster when you need it, if you talk lovingly to him he’ll usually make it to a gas station. Obie provides entertainment to thousands by sporting the latest fashions in bumper stickers. I must say that it’ll be a tragic day indeed when my car finally dies. Hang in there buddy!