Inner child

 I’m writing this from my phone at work because I was just given an estimate for the transmission. 

$2200 for everything: rebuilt part, labor, etc. 

I was willing to pay some rando $2600. Someone tell me how a transmission estimate is cheaper than a timing belt estimate? Fuck Parra’s Auto Repair, for real. 

Most people want me to call it a wash. At this point, they tell me, it’s basically the same price as buying a new car. And I’m not blind, or stupid; I know that. 

But I also know these things: I won’t know a new car like I know Dani. A new car could be a dream or a nightmare six months down the road. I know when her repairs were done and the estimates of when they’ll need to be done again. 

I know her spirit and her soul and the way she won’t make a peep until she absolutely dies. Until she absolutely has to fail before she risks permanent death.

I know that I swore to her I’d take care of her like she hadn’t been before. How am I supposed to look myself in the eye, live with myself, after I say that and fail to keep my word?

I know she’s expensive. I know I’ve spent a lot. I spent 1k on the rear main seal ALONE, and that’s a lifetime part. If I was going to give up, I should’ve done it at the fourth or fifth repair, before I got stupidly attached like I always do. 

If someone wants to go psychologist, I already figured it out: my inner child is Dani. Broken, ugly, used. My inner child is screaming for Dani to be fixed like she wasn’t. To be promised something that isn’t broken later. My inner child is screaming for someone, begging anyone to please stop failing her. Help her. 

My adult self is berated 24/7 by my inner child. One minute my IC is roaring with anger, furious that I’d consider a dealership after all we’ve been through; the next, she is wailing in agony that someone would give up on her again. It is grief stricken, horrible guttural screams, choked off by the anger whenever she feels like she’s cried too much. A child’s tantrum with adult-sized emotions.

If I can fail her, how can she believe anyone else wouldn’t?

I know this is stupid, okay. I know the irony of her dying shortly after making this blog. I know saving my car to satisfy my inner child is only a temporary balm, but if it’s not Dani, it’ll be something else. My inner child is always weeping.

I don’t know how to live with myself if I just give up. I know Dani wouldn’t blame me. She would love me even as I laid her to rest. But a newer car wouldn’t feel the same. Wouldn’t be as cheap. Wouldn’t care about me like she does.

Yesterday, after the mechanic, I drove Dani to my night job. When I started her, she took a while and finally started. After work, I knew there was a chance I’d end up walking home and calling a tow for her tomorrow.

When I put the key in the ignition, I paused and said, “If Dani starts, that is the sign to get her a new transmission. If she doesn’t, that is the sign to let her rest peacefully.”

She started. Sooner than she had that earlier time.

The message was clear: she wanted me to get home safely. She wanted me to be safe. It’s clear Dani won’t give up on me.

My friend told me it would be better to buy a new car. My mechanic said I had maintained her so well and put so much into her that, personally, his opinion was that it would be worth it. That I’ve come too far. 

I think both of them have a point. My friend told me I should write down what I wanted from a car, and see what checks out better— what the cost vs worth is, to quote Confessions of a Shopaholic.

I think I have to do that. But I also want other people’s opinions. Has anyone bought a new transmission? Did you think it was worth it? Or did you buy a new car instead? Was that a better choice? Financially, because I have no car payments and dirt cheap insurance. Were the added car payments and higher insurance worth it? How much did that add financial stress?

For my own situation, do you think it’s worth it? I will use your experience and compound it with mine, but in your opinion… do you think it’s worth it?

This is Pondering Penny, signing off.