The Death and Possible Resurrection of Supercar
A family can forge an enduring bond with a reliable vehicle
I’ve had a 2000 Subaru Sport rusting in my backyard for about a year. It’s the most reliable car I’ve ever owned. At 40 below zero and that car would start right up even when better, newer vehicles struggled to turn over.
Last winter the Sport was completely buried by a mountain of snow. I dug out the door, climbed in, and drove straight out with no trouble. The kids christened the vehicle “Supercar” because the darn thing wouldn’t die. I told the story to one of my friends. He took a look at the rusted out back end and said, “Then somebody needs to kill it.”
Supercar isn’t in my life anymore, but I don’t know if it’s dead. I hope not.
What to do with a reliable vehicle
We upgraded last year after a mechanic told me that Supercar’s subframe had rusted out. A Subaru is just getting started at 211,000 miles, but Supercar had been through a series of owners like Buck in The Call of the Wild.
It was still roadworthy, but a car that isn’t driven tends to get reclaimed by the Earth. So began the arduous process of figuring out what to do with it.
You’d think a vehicle that has working breaks, decent tires, a clutch that doesn’t slip, and a reliable engine would have some sort of value, but I found that’s not the case.
It costs $400 to title a car. When the title price is the same as the asking price, you’ve got a hard sell.
Perhaps as an ORV?
I kept thinking that maybe somebody with a big piece of land would want it. ORVs are expensive. Supercar was better than any four-wheeler.
I kept thinking that a motorhead might be interested in buying it for a fun weekend if nothing else. You can have a lot of fun with a car that’s at the end of its road.
Take it out over some sweet jumps.
But I couldn’t get rid of it
Every time I got close to transferring ownership, fate stepped in and changed my plans. Whenever interested started to heat up, one of my other cars would break down and I found I needed Supercar for a week or two.
It costs $100 for yearly registration. If you’re forced to rent a vehicle for a few days, you hit that number pretty fast. At one breakdown a year, you come out ahead.
So the opportunities came and went, and Supercar settled into his place beneath the tree where the squirrels lived. The kids took to crawling over it.
A worthy cause
One day on a drive, my wife pointed to a sign, “Look, Boat Angel, they accept donations.”
“We don’t have a boat.”
“I’m thinking of Supercar.”
“Supercar isn’t a boat.”
“They take cars too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I saw another one of their billboards on my way to work. They take donated cars and fix them up and give them to people in need. I think they even provide a tax credit.”
Perfect!
That sounded good to me. I hadn’t wanted to sell Supercar on Craigslist to some 16 year-old who would go out and get himself killed. But selling it to a group that had enough mechanical knowledge to get it running right sounded appealing.
Supercar had a good motor. The body and chassis needed some reinforcement, but with a little work, it could be a good car for somebody.
I found the website and supplied my contact information. They informed me they’d send a guy to come and pick it up.
The trucker
The next day I fielded a few phone calls from unknown numbers. Most wanted to tell me there was a problem with my Social Security account or that I owned money to the IRS. The last call came after 5. I almost didn’t answer.
“Hello, I understand you have a car for me to pick up?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll be there at 7.”
The mothership landed
Darkness had fallen by the time the tow truck driver arrived. He knocked at my door and his appearance reminded me of a garden gnome that had lost its hat. He had the look of honest work. He was covered in grime, but his eyes twinkled.
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself…
Behind him, the whole city street seemed to be lit up by the illumination of his vehicle. It was the kind of sight that made me think something similar must have been the inspiration for the Millennium falcon. There was nothing but floodlights and hydraulic pistons for as far as the eye could see.
“I’m sorry I was late, the last load gave me some trouble.”
“Are you all by yourself?”
“Yup.”
“You spend all night wrestling junk cars onto your truck?”
“Yup.”
I looked past him and squinted to get a better picture of things. His truck was overflowing with donated cars like he was some kind of junkyard Santa. A few looked like they’d seen better days.
“How did you get those up there?”
“I’m a professional,” he said. I found I liked him. He seemed no-nonsense, competent, and reasonable. Sometimes you can tell all that in an instant. His teeth flashed beneath his whiskers. “Let’s see this car.”
The sleeping giant
I took him back beneath the squirrel tree where Supercar was sound asleep. The trucker wasn’t impressed. He took out his camera and snapped some pictures.
“We call it Supercar,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“It runs, I hope it will be a reliable vehicle for somebody.”
“Naw, I bet they’ll just scrap it,” he said.
My heart sank at the thought. I felt an unreasonable amount of sadness.
“Really?”
“Yeah, people don’t want an old, rusty car like that.” Then he looked at me, “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said, “but I thought your organization fixed up cars like this.”
“Oh, I’m an independent contractor. I just gather the vehicles up, then they sell them. They’ll put this up for auction and I’m guessing it won’t attract many bids.”
“Huh, I guess I misread the web page.” I was still sort of shell-shocked.
“Now that one,” he said, pointing to a brand new Escalade with the front smashed in on the back of his trailer. “That one is going to make them some money. It still runs fine.”
“Well, so does Supercar.”
“Let’s see.”
The last ride
I got in. Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d started up Supercar. Would it go? I put the keys into the ignition and gave it an experimental whirl. As always, the engine roared to life.
“Whoa,” said the trucker. “She sounds pretty good. I didn’t expect that.”
“Where do you want it?”
He directed me behind his glowing spaceship. I couldn’t identify how many different shades of yellow, white and red flickered about me. It felt like the final scene from 2001.
For the love of a Subaru
People in Wisconsin are always skeptical about Subarus, until they actually have to work with one. The trucker grabbed his chains and dove into the dirt. It looked like it hurt, but he was a pro. He squealed with delight when he found the tow hooks on the front end.
“Love Subarus.”
“They’re designed to get pulled out.”
He laughed and began playing with levers on his truck. The flat bed began to rattle and transform. A dozen vehicles shook.
First impressions
A new neighbor had just moved in and I realized I was standing in his yard. The lights came on and I saw eyes peering out from behind the blinds.
I raised my hand in a friendly wave, “Sorry about the commotion!”
The blinds snapped shut and the lights turned off. I had just become that neighbor.
A little help
The jolly old elf all covered in soot distracted me from lamenting what my neighbor must be thinking.
“Actually,” he said, “can you help me with this?”
“What do I have to do?”
“Push the red lever down.”
He climbed into the car. I pushed the lever and the truck started to shake and groan. The cable retracted and Supercar was drawn up onto the top level. The trucker steered, he stuck his foot out like Tom Cruise riding a motorcycle in Mission Impossible.
The laws of mass and friction
The platform got higher and steeper and I started to worry. Supercar was nothing but rust underneath. The angle seemed impossible, and when chains and cables failed, they always failed at the worst possible time.
Sure enough, there was a sudden CLUNK! sound that rent the night. I released the lever and dove into the bushes in an attempt to avoid a hail of rusty shrapnel.
I’ve worked heavy machinery enough to know that the first thing you do when things go wrong is let go of the controls and hit the dirt. I’m told this isn’t the training airline pilots receive.
The aftermath
“Are you okay?” I yelled.
The trucker was like a shadow on the rooftop. He kept scurrying around like he was looking for a chimney to drop into. Guys of his profession are bold. They do battle with metal and hydraulics all day. I was standing there thinking of the whiplash of a broken cable. He was contemplating the stars and forging bits of wire into an unbreakable link.
“Push the lever down again,” he called out.
I pushed. Supercar continued along, and the platform leveled and finally settled into place. The trucker came out and had a look. “Son of a biscuit,” he said, “the undercarriage hooked up on my other cable.”
He held up something that appeared to be broken.
“The first casualty of the night.”
The trucker snorted.
The tie down
He commenced to scrambling all around, fasting Supercar in place with cables and tow ropes. He tightened one with a come-along. I had a headlight. I directed the powerful beam onto his workplace and he was enormously grateful.
“Thanks!” he said.
“You should consider buying one of these.”
“Would you believe I have five of them. The thing is, they don’t charge themselves.”
“Yeah, actually, I was pretty surprised that mine was where I’d left it, and it was charged. On rare occasions, fate plays nice.” As the comment came out of my mouth, I found myself startled by it.
The handoff
The trucker got Supercar squared away and had a look at it.
“I think that one’s going to cost them money.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the tow fee is $225, then there will be the auction fees, but I don’t think anyone’s going to bid on it. At the end the day they’ll sell it for scrap and get maybe $50.”
“Dang, I thought I was helping somebody out.”
“Well, I get paid, you’re helping me out.” Again I saw the flash of white teeth beneath a beard.
“Then I’m glad that I called them because you seem like a decent fellow.”
The seed of an idea
He looked up at the car. “It started right up didn’t it?”
“Yup, it doesn’t look like much, but it’s got it where it counts. A guy who’s mechanical could make something of that car.”
The trucker didn’t respond, but he kept looking.
“What did you think they were going to do with it?” he asked.
“Fix it up and give it to somebody down on their luck. Any handy man could get it going.”
“I believe you’re right.”
“Like you said,” I continued, “the bids at auction won’t be that high will they?”
“Nope.”
“Could be a steal.”
“Yup.”
“Well, something to think about.”
The send off
The trucker turned to me, took off his glove, and extended his hand. “Thanks for your help, you were a lifesaver. Can you believe I still have another vehicle to pick up?”
“Well, good luck to you and have a safe journey home.”
“Thanks.”
He climbed into the cabin and shut the door. The engine, which had been grumbling the whole time, finally roared again to life as he pulled away.
I watched Supercar as it was carried off into the night. I briefly turned to go back into the house, but then I stopped and made myself watch until Supercar was out of sight.
Your cars become part of the family. Supercar had served my wife and children well by bringing us safely home from every journey. I saluted Supercar as it disappeared, and retreated indoors.
I like to think that somewhere out there, Supercar is still out on the road. Or maybe that trucker was an agent for the North Pole sent out to gather worthy raw materials for the secret factory.
Either ending would suit me just fine.