Cammy Doesn't Need a Spoiler

My twelve-year-old Camry keeps plugging along.  Cammy (yes, I understand that's not a very original name, but she picked it herself) is getting old, but she keeps on going.

She is almost at 138,000 miles, which to me is remarkable.  My first car caught fire on MoPac a month or so after I bought it.  I was 15, I didn't understand the concept of oil, engine fire ensued.  The longest I had a car was my Toyota Starlet (I loved that car), which I think I got to just over 100,000 miles.

I've stopped relating my mileage milestones to Jill, since she seems to have a different perspective.

"Cammy just passed 110,000 miles!"
"That's no big deal for a car."

"Cammy just passed 120,000 miles!"
"It's a Toyota.  That's nothing."

"Cammy just passed 130,00 miles!"
"If you took better care of your cars, you would know that they can last well past 500,000 miles."

I have stopped sharing Cammy's exciting milestones with Jill, as she clearly has a less abrupt-ending-before-their-time history with her cars.

Cammy is dying a slower death.  The death of a thousand annoying things.  Her back speakers crumbled 4-5 years ago.  Her automatic door unlocking system works only in very specific conditions, which change every once in awhile.  Sometimes it'll work only when it's cold (in Austin that means 65 degrees or lower).  Sometimes it will work on the first unlocking of the day.  Mostly, it doesn't work.  Her back seats don't fold down anymore.  Lately, she thinks there is always someone sitting in the passenger seat, and beeps accordingly.  She'll change her mind, then re-change her mind, and beep accordingly.

We all make accommodations for the ones we love.  I listen to the front speakers.  I manually unlock the doors.  I now have the ghost passenger buckled in at all times. 

Something that happened early on was the "folding of the corners."  All four corners of my car have dents in them. I have noticed this phenomenon with other gold Camrys.  Next time you are driving, look for this. Not Camrys in general, just gold ones.  And not just gold cars, gold Camrys.  Something to do with the magnetic properties of the gold paint coupled with the soda-can metal of the paneling.

I got the first two 5-6 years ago (left front and right front).  Left rear was a side-swipe two years ago.  Right rear dimpled in at some point because it didn't want to be left out.  It's a matching set of four.  Likely changes my wind-resistance by 0.3 - 1.4 %.  I don't really notice it, because if I ever get Cammy over 60 mph, she shakes like she's in detox.  I don't need speed.

Over the years, every once in awhile I would have someone see me get out of the car and tell me they could fix my dents.  I would politely decline.

This practice, however, is getting more frequent and more aggressive. 

A couple of weeks ago, my home doorbell rang (not that I have doorbells in places other than my home).

"I was just driving by, and I saw your car.  I can fix those dents."
"No thank you."
"I also am going to be installing new windows for some of your neighbors, and can get you a good deal."
"Which neighbors?"
"The ones who ordered new windows.  Do you care about clean water?  I have this petition you can sign and am accepting donations."

I politely declined, but did pick up a new subscription to Wired magazine.

Then, three days ago, I am leaving Walgreens and getting into my car when I see this car race across the parking lot toward me.  I shut my car door and look in the rearview mirror (still works).  The car has a business sticker on the side: "We fix dents, while you wait!  Roadside assistance, while you wait!  Teeth whitening, while you wait!"

I turn on my car and put it into reverse.  The car is right behind me, blocking me in.  I honk.  The driver leans out of his window and waves his arms at me.  I honk again.  He waves more emphatically.  We go through this cycle three more times.

I relent and roll down my window. 

"I can fix those dents."

"Dude, this is a 12 year old car with almost 138,000 miles on it.  The locks don't work, the speakers don't work, it beeps sporadically and lights up random new warning lights every month or so. I truly, sincerely, do not give a shit about the dented corners of my car. You are blocking me in, and I can reasonably fear that I am being assaulted or kidnapped.  Since this is Texas, I now legally have the right to shoot you.  I don't have a gun or a license, but again, since this is Texas, I am guessing I could make that happen pretty quickly. So, respectfully, get the fuck out of my way."

"I teach concealed handgun courses and could get you a license while you wait."

Not Cammy.  Google "Dented Gold Camry", and you will get 2.3 million hits.  It's a thing.