A new car. Do I have to?

My 1985 Subaru Brat, a car/truck hybrid, is navy blue with a snow-white cap covering the super-cool rear-facing jump seats in the bed. The “Roo” is a small two-seater that is so skinny it takes up barely half of a lane on the expressway and fits comfortably into the most compact of compact parking spots.

The Roo has given me more than 175,000 virtually trouble-free miles. And I am not a person deserving of such giving.

I bought the Roo in the fall of 1991 from a couple of soon-to-be parents in Ann Arbor, Mich. They were making the move to a mini-van. With the purchase came a file folder containing every repair and maintenance receipt for the car dating back to the original purchase.

"Yeah, that’s great," I said, as I threw the folder in the passenger seat while testing the radio. "Do these seats recline any more?"

When I plunked down the $2,000 to buy the four-year-old import, I just thought it was a great way to lug my music equipment around. It was also much cooler than the rusted-out 1974 Ford pickup I was driving at the time.

There was a time - during one of the Roo’s oil-leak phases - when I used the oil pressure gauge like the gas gauge. If the oil pressure was low, I needed to put in a quart. If I waited long enough and the engine started ticking, I needed to add two quarts. Since I was putting in new oil to replace the oil now decorating the street, that was just as good as an oil change. The mechanic who fixed the leak - something to do with a head and a casket - corrected my naive theory.

Later I developed a schedule. The Roo got an oil change once a year, whether it needed it or not. An annual car wash was also in order; navy blue hides dirt remarkably well. Tires needed replacing when one blew out, hopefully close to home.

After a couple years in Ann Arbor and Detroit, I saw gold and platinum in the fabled grunge scene of Seattle. My band mates and I made the trek across the country in a four-car caravan and the Roo made the 2300-mile trip with ease.

After I settled in Seattle, the Roo became very loud and needed some exhaust work. I looked through the folder of receipts to see if any exhaust work had been done before. As I flipped through, the first few were from Dunning Subaru in Ann Arbor, mainly for oil changes and a burned out blinker bulb. Further back in time, the dealership changed to Renton Subaru. That being in Renton, Washington.

The Roo had come home. In January of 1985, those car-selling parents-to-be were newlyweds living in West Seattle. They bought the Roo and drove it to Ann Arbor sometime in 1988, only to have me drive it back five years later.

Fifteen of my 18 years of driving have been in the Roo. A lot has happened in those years. There’s a tear in the front-seat upholstery that has been growing for about 10 years. What at the time sounded like a gunshot was actually a rock from a gravel truck I was following. It started a crack in the windshield that now stretches from one side to the other. Two small patches of rust, one on the hood and the other on the tailgate, are the only imperfections on the body.

I’ve gotten married, bought a house and a new Jetta for my wife. Occasionally my wife will ask me when we are getting another car to replace the Roo. “Next summer,” I say. That has been the standard answer for seven years running.

Pres. Bush? Meet nuance. Nuance? Our president.

Our president’s lack of interest in nuance and his reveling in “straight talk” appear to have come back to haunt him. Two things in recent days come to mind.

First, President Bush goes on TV on 5/15/06 to explain the immigration policy. “This is not amnesty, because…” In explaining why the 11 million illegal immigrants who are here, have been a valuable member of society since they got here should not be herded up and sent back he required some nuanced words. A little strange seeing this coming from him. This required more than three words, a few commas and even some propositions thrown in. Well, his co-horts in the House of Representatives aren’t having any of it, passing a bill requiring deportation. The Senate came along, passing a bill along his lines of Bush’s preference. The two bills are polar opposites. Who knows what will come of it.

Then on Friday, a British reporter asked Bush about what mistakes he has made. Remember, if you will, the last time this happened, Bush couldn’t come up with an answer. This time he was ready for the question. His first thought was to say that his using lines of great bravado, such as “Bring it on” and “dead or alive” were wrong. He went further saying he learned he needed to be more sophisticated in how he communicates. This is a far cry from the tough talk campaign language of his presidential campaigns.

Apparently, someone in the communications office has decided that appealing to the lowest common denominator is not the best way to govern a country. Life is complicated. Governing is complicated. Policy is complicated. It takes more than three-word phrases to explain it.

No Cash, No Problem... Keep My Friend.

I totally did this once.

> A German woman left her friend as a deposit at a gas station because
> she did not have enough cash to pay for her petrol, police said Wednesday.

So, I was 16, driving over to a friend's place at 11 p.m. Right as I was driving past the only gas station for 10 miles in Hamburg, Mich., I felt the engine sputter. I turned around and made it back to the gas station on fumes. Then I realized I'd left my wallet at home.

After a little negotiation, I got $5 in gas and left my friend, Tony, there while I retrieved my wallet. By the time I made it back to the gas station, the attendent had Tony restocking the candy aisle.

You Think You’re Cynical?

I had it out with my dog this morning.

She barked at the dormant lawnmower, and then looked up at me.

I was like: You’re only doing that for the attention…

And she was like: Woof.

And I said: I can’t believe I actually thought for a second that my dog thought she was sneaking something past me. Her actions are pretty transparent. Of course, she’s occasionally sneaky, but when she is it’s for food or attention. And she’s just so cute when she does that.

Anyway, I put my cynicism in check and officially started my day over.

Music solves a lot of problems for me. In this case I was humming “I Just Want to Celebrate” from Rare Earth before I even got back in the house. I’d moved on to U2’s “Beautiful Day” by the time I was pouring the food in Maggie’s bowl.

Now? I’m going for another cup of coffee.