Faithful readers of Whatever will remember that in December, Athena totaled her car on Interstate 70 after running over debris from an accident involving two other cars. This was unfortunate, but she was unharmed (as were the two people who had the accident she came across), and really, as far as we were concerned, that was what mattered. In fairly short order, we got another car for her to use, a 2013 Chevy Equinox, much of which was paid for through the insurance settlement for the now-totaled car. So, a happy ending, as much something like this could have a happy ending.
Well, until three weeks ago, when Athena’s car suddenly started developing engine trouble, and by “engine trouble” I mean “shards of the actual engine suddenly appearing in the motor oil.” We took it in to be serviced and or local mechanic told us that in very short order the engine was going to tear itself apart. We had bought a lemon, basically.
And what can you do about a lemon? Well, in Ohio, there is a lemon law, but it only applies to new vehicles. Moreover, we were sold the vehicle “as is,” so, as a matter of law, we were pretty much out of luck. However, two things happened next: Krissy was morally outraged she had been sold a lemon and was determined to seek satisfaction, and the car dealership decided to be decent about the fact they had sold us a terrible car and/or quailed at the wrath of a pissed-off Kristine Blauser Scalzi. After they checked the car out in their own shop, they decided to allow us to swap the lemon for an equal-or-higher cost used car on their lot (if higher cost, we would pay the difference).
Which led us to this, a 2015 Honda Odyssey, which our own mechanic assured us was in very fine shape. And it is indeed in very fine shape; outside of scuff marks on the tailgate where clearly stuff had been repeatedly shoved in and out of the back, it looked, smelled and drove like new. As it happens, Athena’s first car was also a Honda Odyssey, specifically our 2003 model, which she had loved and had been sad to let go of at the end of its life. She was thrilled to be able to come back to the make and model once more. I’m happy because Hondas are, at least in my experience, ridiculously reliable. She’ll be driving this for a while, I’m sure.
If you’re wondering why I’m calling it the “Not Coolmobile,” that’s because when Krissy and I bought our 2003 Honda Odyssey, I got the license plate “NOT COOL” for it, on the basis that if you’re driving a minivan, you have accepted the fact that any pretense of coolness you ever might have had has just gone out the window. Minivans are practical and useful, but not ever cool. That being the case, why not have fun with it? People seemed to enjoy the plates, and every now again on the freeway we’d see folks passing us looking into the cabin of the car with a smile on their face. We’d wonder why and then remember the license plate.
The plates stayed on the minivan after Athena inherited it, and then, when we swapped the Odyssey out for the car she drove after that, the plates went onto it. But it was an SUV and so the “Not Cool” signaling was not quite as strong. However, now, the plates will be going back on a minivan. Time is a circle, it is.
I’m annoyed we bought a lemon but I am pleased the dealership chose to do the right thing by us in letting us switch the cars; that’s good service and I’ll remember it the next time I’m in the market for an automobile (notwithstanding the Ford Lightning we’re theoretically getting one day).
So, welcome to family, Not Coolmobile Two. May you last a long, long time.