The Infiniti, and beyond

It's October 31, and much to my chagrin, the car remains uninspected. It was due in September, and now I'm 60 days over. I'm worried and trying to figure out where and how to find the time to get my baby over to the garage, but I can't seem to find a plan that will work.

For eleven years, I drove a Toyota Corolla. Blue, four-door, '89 sedan, a real workhorse. When my '83 Corolla Hatchback lost its muffler on the way home for winter break from college one December day, I didn't know what I would do. The car had been in two major accidents, and wasn't exactly reliable. I knew my parents didn't feel great about me driving back and forth more than 120 miles each way with a tempermental car, and besides, there were these big stupid buses all over campus - I probably didn't need the car after all.

But when I came downstairs one morning, a couple of days before I had to leave to go back for spring semester, my dad announced, "We're giving you the blue car." It was brand new, we'd only had it for about six months. I couldn't believe that I was getting a new car, just like that, for doing nothing. My immediate response was: "What have you done with my parents?"

I drove that car until 2001 - from the time I was 19 until I was 31. I was convinced the car had some kind of divinely-inspired autopilot, considering how many times I drove that car, completely not paying attention to the road, speedometer, or other drivers. I put more than 150,000 miles on that car and never got hurt once.

But eventually, it blew a head gasket and it had to go. We donated it to the Diabetes Foundation. I remember being really depressed about it, thinking I was completely devastated at losing this symbol of my youth. Two days later was 9/11, which kind of put things into perspective.

After that I leased my sweet little Sentra - first the gold one, which was the unfortunate recipient of the karmic blast intended for eleven years of not watching the road - within eight weeks it was totaled in a bad five-car pile up on the FDR Drive. Nissan was fabulous and let me apply the two whole payments and my deposit to a new car. I went over to the dealership one cloudy Sunday afternoon, and picked out a red one.

When my dad passed away, I agreed to buy his beloved Infiniti from my mom, even though I still had 9 months to go on my Sentra lease. The Infiniti was old, but it was paid for, and driving it felt like driving around in a living room. During the past six months before he died, I drove it more frequently as he distanced himself more and more from the things he loved, including driving. We'd go up to visit my sister in Connecticut and he'd mention that he didn't really feel up to the trip home, that I could handle the car better than he could in the dark - something he never really believed before. In retrospect, maybe we should have known there was something wrong.

Now the Infiniti is mine, and I think my dad would pretty much freak out to see it. He kept it neat as a pin - he was as meticulous about his cars as he was about everything else. Now it's got a trunk full of books and dry cleaning and china that my mom gave me but that I haven't brought upstairs yet, the backseat has boxes (again, yet to be brought upstairs) and there is a Torah, a Tanakh and a siddur on the front seat. Talk about being a wandering Jew. I could lead services in my car if I were so inclined. And you could probably get a minyan in there if you took out all the crap in the back.

But it does need to be inspected, and I need to find the time. I don't know where it is going to come from, or how I am going to explain to the Powers that Be here that I need a day where I can work from home and be without the car. This can't go on much longer. Even the Infiniti is beholden to a higher power.