My latest journalistic endeavour - beats writing funding proposals!

One day, in a fit of journalistic enthusiasm (after one of my beloved 'Old Coots' car cruises with our great friends) I wrote this little article and sent it to my dear friend Bob. Surprisingly he liked it too and it's appeared in the Oct/Nov edition of "Performance in Motion". Thanks Bob, it's fun being published!!

“1953 Model, Fairly Good Condition. Needs some ongoing work and TLC. Good project for interested person who doesn’t expect perfection when complete.”

If I was a car ad, that would be me. Anyone who knows my husband and I know that we are car people. When we bought our house almost five years ago, I was impressed with the layout and garden potential; he was thrilled with the three car garage, parking for six cars in the driveway and the extra parking beside the garage. Needless to say, we have a collection – some that run and some that don’t. A couple of drivers, a drag race car, Molly the Motorhome, a classic cruiser, an enclosed trailer and the inevitable dusty project in the garage under the car cover lurking to annoy me. I’m always afraid that the Motor Vehicle Department will make us take out some kind of licence since, when family or friends visit, we usually have more vehicles than the average corner car lot.

All that aside, my current health situation gave me time to pause and think how much I can relate to many of our car adventures. I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer in April 2008. Not unlike one of those staggering reports from your mechanic, I received the news with shock and some minor freaking out since I’d noticed some changes months before, but put off the trip to the doctor. I remember the day we got the news that the Mercury Sable wagon we owned (and both hated) had blown head gaskets. Ye gads, that’s a major overhaul and extremely expensive fix! My doctor’s cancer diagnosis was much more compassionately and carefully explained, but produced the same gutwrenching, shocking reaction with one minor difference – I was not about to be put in the Auto Trader and disposed of quickly for as much money as we could get before I deteriorated beyond help. Thanks to early diagnosis, my treatment was to be quickly enacted and the often-annoying but, in this case wonderful Province of McGuinty would foot the bill.

And so my treatment started like so many of our automotive projects. My parts were inspected, prodded, photographed and hummed and hawed over. Great discussion ensued over the expectation of the final result and a concourse, ground up reconstruction was ruled out as unnecessary. Surgery was scheduled to remove the offending, defective part, and I was buttoned up and sent home to rest and recover until the next procedure. Careful examination of the offending part revealed that more work needed to be done so off I was sent to surgery again – a minor fix that was sufficient to let me start my next part of the journey, chemotherapy. In generally excellent health and not so rusty to cause concern, it was determined that I could take the heavy-duty package for maximum performance at the end. Not unlike flushing and replacing all the car’s fluids, I was fitted with a port to make fluid infusion easier and sat there as they flushed my own custom industrial strength cocktail through my tubing to ensure that no stray little cancer bits were still floating around looking for a place to land and cause more disintegration. Unlike most engine flushes, however, I’m to endure this process five more times to be sure everything’s gone.

Now, being the base 1953 model, I came with few extra options. Over the years, I’ve “blinged” her up a bit on occasion, but the base model stayed pretty much the same. The chemo will cause me to go from being a hardtop to having a sunroof, but my new wig, hats and scarves will let me be a convertible on occasion – pretty cool to be sure. After all my treatments are done, hubby and I have made the decision to do a minor accessory removal that will be replaced with a fake part that, hopefully, no one but he will ever notice! The best body job is one that no one ever knows was done, right!

So our love of everything automotive continues…. Many of our friends in our “Old Coots” cruise club have gone through similar “adventures” with both themselves and their classic vehicles. Engines and (body) parts have been “refreshed”, axles have been repaired or replaced, fluids have been changed and the occasional “octane booster” is required to keep everything running just right. Some are closer to the original “off the assembly line” perfection than others, but we all share a deep love for our cars and each other. We share each other’s good times and bad and rally round when someone or something breaks down and needs a little roadside assistance in the form of a tool, a boost or a shoulder to lean on.

So like the dusty project that is my Comet in the garage, I am like my car. The washer fluid leaks for unexplained reasons, the radio occasionally blares, the cooling system is not working and at best blows warm air, with the occasional blasts of unexplained heat for a few moments. The rust is being cut away and, with time, she will be put back together, shiny and rejuvenated and on the road in good driving condition. Until that time, she sits and I grumble about the waste of a great car just sitting there gathering dust, while all our efforts go into other things. “Even though we both love that car, she’s a mess. Why don’t we just get rid of her and let someone else put their love and energy into her?” I ask Darling Husband. “Honey, I wouldn’t get rid of YOU would I?” he responds. Damn, I love the man to death, so grateful he doesn’t expect perfection, and the washer fluid is leaking again.