Awhile back I stopped watching cable television after learning that pretty much all cable subscriptions include such channels as Fox News, OAN, and Newsmax, and that even though I would never choose to watch any of those channels, nonetheless, they’d be pocketing a portion of my monthly subscription payment. In other words, I’d be underwriting fascism!
So what I do now is just watch channels that are available free via antenna—and, yes, one of those is a round-the-clock Jimmy Swaggart cryathon. Hard to believe there are still suckers out there willing to send money to Bible-thumping hucksters, but then again, maybe not. From what I’ve gleaned from the few channels I do watch, America is chock full of suckers with pocketbooks ripe for the plucking. Let’s take, for example, advertisements aimed at those of us whose cars are currently out of warranty. At any moment, something very bad might happen—like, your car will suddenly explode!
Yes, it’s a scary thing to contemplate; however, unless you’ve managed to get crosswise with the Mafia, your car isn’t likely to suddenly explode. As a matter of fact, it’s not even going to break down—not if you’ve taken care to change the oil and filter regularly and follow prescribed preventive maintenance guidelines. Take, for example, my 1995 Nissan Pathfinder, which currently has 204,000 miles on the odometer. The engine runs so quietly, you can’t even hear it—because for one thing it’s gotten a new timing belt every sixty thousand miles, along with a new water pump—standard operating standard since the mechanic is already that deep into the engine. And as long as you’re replacing the water pump, you might as well spring for new belts all around. This way you won’t experience what uninsured drivers in television ads routinely experience when out on a lonely road on a dark night in the middle of nowhere—a plume of steam and/or smoke billowing from underneath the bonnet.
“Should’ve gotten Car Shield!” declaims the pitchman. No, what you shoulda done is maintain your vehicle’s cooling system instead of just ignoring it. Car Shield won’t prevent engine trouble; it’ll just make sure that you’ll be making monthly payments whether your car breaks down or not.
“I saved four thousand dollars on a transmission overhaul,” exults a satisfied customer who, like me, lives in Salt Lake City. So what happened to her transmission? I’ll tell you what. She made the mistake of pulling into a shop that specializes in transmission repair and announcing that she has Car Shield!
Here’s the thing about transmissions. Unless you’re a drag racer, they don’t break. I’ve been driving now for 62 years and I’ve yet to experience transmission failure. Oh, wait! I take that back. I once had a 1950 Mercury that had no reverse gear, but as I recall, it was just a loose wire, or maybe a disconnected vacuum hose. Whatever, it didn’t cost four thousand dollars to fix—most likely because I didn’t have an extended warranty policy.
In addition to the ’50 Merc’ I once owned a ’56—both of which I should have held onto since they’re in big demand nowadays as customizable body styles. But my love affair with the Mercury marque went south thanks to a 1986 Sable—one of the very worst vehicles ever built. Luckily, it came with an extended warranty, because it was in and out of repair shops on a weekly basis. The repair bill was always about the same—five hundred bucks or so, plus a small processing fee. Eventually, it dawned on me that the car just wasn’t fixable, and so I traded it in on the Pathfinder. And by “trade-in,” I mean the dealer who took the Sable off my hands only charged me five hundred dollars for the favor. Unfortunately, my extended warranty policy didn’t cover the cost of lemon disposal.
According to Car Shield’s fine print disclaimer, my 1995 Pathy is now too old and has too many miles on it to qualify for extended warranty insurance. As a result, I’ve learned to cope with such few things as might go wrong with a finely engineered Japanese machine. For instance, about fifteen years ago the tachometer went out. Instead of paying five hundred dollars to replace it, I just ignore it. Three years back the horn stopped working and I was forced to stop honking at bothersome motorists, bicycles and pedestrians. The result is, I’ve become a better person; however, just last week I tapped the button and to my surprise the horn honked. So now I am on the road to becoming a discourteous driver again.
In one commercial, a minivan owner is trapped like a mouse when the rear hatch door suddenly drops when he is in the process of retrieving groceries from the cargo bay. The same thing happened me! But instead of trading the car in, I simply replaced the struts that hold the hatch up, and now I’m no longer in danger of being trapped like a mouse.
About a month ago, the “check engine” light came on. Which surprised me, because I had no idea my Pathfinder even had a check engine light. Concerned, I took my car to the nearest Nissan dealer, where, after a brief inspection, the service manager assured me there was nothing the matter with my car. In fact, he asked if I’d be willing to sell it to him, or maybe trade it straight across for a newer model. Of course, I declined. Why on earth would I want a new car when I have an old one that performs perfectly well, save for a tachometer that’s stuck on 9,000 rpm?
