For the first time in my life I have found an inanimate object that I simultaneously love and hate. It’s my 2006 Subaru Impreza wagon, “Thumper.” How do I feel about selling it? Indifferent.
Every time I look at this car I just want to kick it, but then I stop myself, take a breath and reflect on all the positive attributes and good times with it in my life. I can only imagine this is what having kids is like.
But I’m crossing the bridge of sales, leaving Thumper on the other side and setting a napalm fire to said bridge following my crossing. With any luck, the napalm would catch the car on fire and I could just put a claim on it. Actually, you didn’t read that.
Anyway, where to begin. . ..
Strike one – Hippie Car.
I purchased it from a friend who was leaving the country to join the Peace Corps. Now there are a couple reasons why this is important and bad. First, I got stuck with the car. Almost immediately I knew it was a mistake. I wear boots, it wears a smug sense of entitlement. Second, the Peace Corps black-bagged my friend to a place I can only guess is located somewhere between a Heaven’s Gate meeting and Bernie Sanders Rally. Right now, he is living in a mud hut in central Africa, farming beans. 10 bucks says he’s sitting around petting a goat and reading Marx Communist Manifesto as we speak. So, yeah, not really putting that $200K education to work.
Strike two – Haunted/Possessed.
After driving it from NYC I stopped in a truckstop parking lot to sleep near Chicago. In the middle of the night WHILE STILL ASLEEP I started the car and started driving around the parking lot. When I woke up, I was careening towards a parked Big Rig trying not to hit one of the lot lizards scurrying around. Could you imagine that? Accidentally hitting a lot lizard? Ugh, what a nightmare that would be. There wouldn’t be an insurance policy or bottle of bleach big enough to clean that mess up.
Strike Three — I finally ended up back in Minnesota.
Now technically, this is by no fault of the car, but something has to take the blame for that abysmal part of my life and I’m not selling the state of Minnesota. If I was, I would sell it to ISIS for two cases of Budweiser and a pack of Camel Royals, and let the questionably legal drone strikes commence. I’d sit there in a lawn chair getting drunk shouting things like “How’s your goddamn walleye population now!?”
When the Rubber Meets the Road
Now that I’ve had the opportunity to vent a little bit, let’s get serious. It’s all wheel drive. I’m talking boots on the ground, tires NOT spinning, this thing hauls through pretty much every weather condition in the country. When living in Minnesota, I sometimes just looked hopelessly out the window at the miserable existence known as winter before work. Sure enough, there was Thumper just itching to prove its worth to me. It was slightly annoying actually. . .”Thumper, stop. Just stop. No matter what you do I am not going to change the way I feel about you.”
*I guess I should explain I named it Thumper because this little thing just hops all over the country like a rabbit and surprising quick for a 4 cylinder. That and rabbits are arguable the most challenging the thing to shoot.
I’d turn the key, eyes closed, half hoping it wouldn’t start just so I could stay in bed and think about Halcyon days of Kansas City in July with BBQ, front porches and whiskey. Sure enough though, that thing would dig itself out of whatever the Great White North could throw at it. So, that should be put in the positive side for this car, but with an annoying asterisk.
The Trunk
Best trunk I’ve ever had with a car. The back trunk is suspiciously large. Me and the dog went all over the upper Midwest and this car kept everything. I was mistaken as homeless more than once – not joking. I’m not proud of how dirty I kept the seat, but I learned early in my Minnesota days to have enough supplies to live out of your car for at least two weeks. The trunk doesn’t stay open, but I will get you a dowel rod which props it open. I’ll also give you the emergency tuna rations.
It is a stick shift, which is a great feature. It makes you feel like a rally car driver. Thumper is of the lineage of Rallying, but its no rally car. This is like the younger cousin at the Rally family gathers that no one likes and accidentally slams your finger in a door once when you were kicking him out of your room even though he wanted to hang out. Sure it was 20 years ago, but some things are hard to get past.
The engine is the same engine in a Porsche Boxer. Laughable I know, and rest assured Thumper is no Porsche. Also, the genius who designed this engine had it lay sideways so the head gaskets would leak. Don’t worry, I replaced them for $2,000.
Good: Just, I mean, don’t even make me try to list this. It’s a really, really good car. Like probably one of the best cars I’ve owned. It will get you from point A to B. Maybe not in style, but at the very least in safety. I just don’t want to validate its existence by making a list of positive traits. Thumper would probably just take it, draw hearts all over the page and take it as a sign that I want to continue hanging out. I know, I’m an asshole, but I don’t care and I’m busy with a new Toyota.
Bad: The clutch may or may not be going out. It’s starting to sound like a hellcat fighting a dementor when letting the clutch out, so I’m guessing it’s the clutch.
It’s got dints and dings. Nothing crazy, but nevertheless.
Someone just come and take this car. I feel like an abusive pet owner that the catty suburban wives all whisper about (“Mary, can you believe how he treats that poor subaru? It’s a shame. *takes sip on her 2:30pm margarita* Someone should do something about it”). Maybe this car just needs some love. Replace the clutch and I’m sure it’ll go another 100,000 miles no problem.
Here is a picture of Thumper in all his glory. Or her glory. I don’t know – its a pretty androgynous vehicle, still trying to establish its identity on the highway of life.
Leave a Reply