An Ode to my Subaru

Me & my Subaru. Summer 2019.

    In 2016, a 2005 Subaru Outback puttered into my life. It cost about 2K and was living on borrowed time thanks to a skillful auto mechanic. The day I brought my car home, I remember the mechanic, who was also the seller, telling me to expect the “check engine” sign to appear intermittently. When and if the sign showed up, all I needed to do was “ride it off” for a couple of miles. I knew purchasing a car with a janky feature like this was fishy, but I didn’t think much of it given: 1) I‘m not an avid car person. And at the time, I was minimally competent to make a car-related decision, which leads me to 2) My dad had hunted this car down, and I thereby entrusted my decision in his choice without feeling the need to vocalize any hesitation. Of course, as the seller implied, there was nothing wrong with the engine; however, there may have been an issue with the sensor that tells you if there is an issue with the engine. Did this mean I was automatically placing myself in the story after the boy cried wolf several times and was no longer considered a reputable informant? Yes, but at $2K for primarily local-based travel, as my dad reassured, this was a pretty good deal. 

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    If you’ve been to a New England town, then chances are you’ve seen these sturdy vehicles buzzing around. My car was special in the aesthetic sense; coated in light gold all throughout, save for a pale-yellow door. There was also a large chunk missing from the protective cover of the passenger’s side-view mirror. Over time, I forgot this feature existed, but when I did remember, it was like looking at a furry dog shaved bare. The headlights and rear lights were protected by a cloudy cover, making the car’s high beams no match for the bright, piercing high beams of passing cars. Clearly, this car wasn’t beautiful. But that mattered less to me as it was a functioning car that would get me from point A to point B. That said, there were some functional flaws, which did require some creativity. For instance, the trunk never opened. My way around this was to 1) use my trunk as infrequently as possible, 2) Lower the back seats and crawl through, or 3) Use the space for long term storage—most of the time, what went in, didn’t come back out.

 

    Over the next year, the Subaru learned a new, unpleasant trick; when it rained, a loud moaning sound would appear as the car initially accelerated. Far worse was during the winter season—which is just about half of the year, if not more, where I live—when driving in reverse created a loud moaning sound like someone was injured and could not verbalize the pain they were in. The noise would go away after “driving it off,” but stopping at red lights recharged the car’s unwelcomed noise system. 

    Clearly, I’m describing a conspicuous monster, but not without cause: this car was embarrassing to drive sometimes—alright, a lot of the time. I drove this car during my junior and senior years in college, where I was aiming to blend in with the crowd. Imagine driving your car around your college campus with fellow peers walking alongside, listening in on your guilty pleasure music choices on the radio because a window never fully closed. Or imagine being the driver of a rambunctious car that disrupts that fleeting moment of calm when everyone—car drivers, bikers and pedestrians alike—waits for a red light to turn green in a four-way intersection. You could tell about half a mile away that my car was coming. What’s worse is that these noises made for a difficult attempt at a quick get away. Did I mention this car was slow to accelerate too? In a small college town where I had regular routes, this was just not fair from a social standpoint. It took all my might, sitting upright in my seat with my hands in the 10 and 2 position on the wheel, to maintain as much dignity and poise as one can while driving in a car that was screeching, groaning and moaning. Of course, in these transient situations, one has to acquiesce to the nature of the car and keep moving forward with the day while “crying inside” from the sheer embarrassment. 

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    Despite the minute instances of public humiliation that I accrued on behalf of my car, there is also a lot of good that came from this Subaru. First and foremost, it gave me the freedom to roam anywhere at any time I wanted. I love driving at night, through somber and quiet roads, and listening to the radio. I got to do a lot of this in college, driving back home from campus around midnight-1:00 am after spending long hours in the lab or studying. As a woman, there was a greater sense of gratitude I had for being able to have a vehicle at my disposal to use at any time, free from worrying about my safety at night.    

    This old Subaru even lived up to its reputation as a durable car. Winters are generally brutal in New England, but I felt like I could trust this car. A testament to the resilience of this Subaru is that it survived the cyclone of 2018 (the great “Rain-Snow-Ice, three in one” freeze over). That day was harrowing; I had to crawl on my hands and knees, sliding down the hill back to my apartment. Despite the car being coated in a thick sheet of ice, the battery didn’t die. It even survived being outside of my family home, unused for the duration of a several-day-long winter blast in the spring of 2017. At the end of the day, what really mattered to me was having a car I knew I could depend on during brutal winter seasons—the seat heaters didn’t hurt either!

    By being a slow-to-accelerate vehicle, this car helped me become more patient, forcing me to accept that the pace of my car was its own, and I couldn’t keep up with speedy drivers even if I wanted. In some ways I’d like to think this car helped me translate this concept of moving at your own pace into my own life as well—mostly because the Subaru reminded me of this every day for two years straight. 

    This car has a special place in my heart as both the bane of my existence and an irritating love of my life. I say Love because I do find value and excitement in the experiences that resulted from the many mishaps, just like you might find with love. Awww. The experience of driving an older Subaru Outback and the general knowledge about cars that came from owning this vehicle are very valuable to me. To know what was going on, or have the capacity to postulate what was wrong—or at the very least, have the confidence to just keep driving. Ultimately, this car is now a part of my story. An inside joke even—which evidently, a good part of my local community is also in on.

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    By the end of the summer of 2019, I could tell that my car was a few months shy of being impounded. For instance, the check engine sign started to present more frequently. Then my tailpipe partially fell off after driving over inevitable potholes and speed bumps on my usual car route. The screeching noises the car made, while reversing and accelerating, really made it a point that they were here to stay. I finally sold the car back to its original seller after rationalizing that the repairs would cost more than getting another used car in better shape. And honestly, I was just frustrated by the consistent inconsistency of the car in what felt like an already stressful final year in college. After running this by my dad, we agreed on trying to sell the car back, even for parts. To my surprise, the mechanic was very eager to buy the car back.

    The state of my car at the time of transferring ownership was poor. I anticipated the Subaru was headed for splitsville. Literal splitting of car parts. With that knowledge in mind, I wiped my hands clean of the car’s woes. Onwards and beyond! I find it imperative to share that as the owner of a small business, my dad is friends with many local business owners—the mechanic included. So naturally, my dad was in the know of the happenings at the auto shop. About a month or two after we sold the car back, my dad shared that the car had been re-sold. What?! To keep it short; 1) I overshot my knowledge of cars—I know more than I did before owning the Subaru, sure, but not enough to decide if something is ready to be sold for parts. And 2) at the hands of a skilled auto mechanic, even a dying 2005 Subaru can be brought back from the brink of car death. We purchased the car at $2,000. The car was bought back at $1250, and later resold at $3,000 with a fixed engine and brakes (you see the brakes were the source of most of the noises). He profited! Did I underestimate this car’s potential and value? Over the last few years when I’ve driven by his shop, the number of cars parked there for repairs has grown significantly—from Audi convertibles to older cars from the early 2000s era. The increase in cars at his shop is probably the most accurate representation of his skillfulness getting its due.  

    From what I know, the Subaru was sold to a local resident. Whenever I’m in town and see a relatively old Gold Subaru Outback, I look for a pale-yellow-hued door that doesn’t quite fit in and a chipped rear-view mirror, in hopes to figure out who is lucky enough to own the better version of my car. To them I say, Good luck to you on your adventures. You’ll probably need a hook to pry open the gas cap all year round, but especially during the winter. And consider a flexible ice scraper to scrape ice from inside the windshield. Sometimes the car key gets jammed in the ignition hole, but just keep jiggling, it’ll loosen up eventually. And love that car like you love your parents or guardian—she’s a keeper...even though I didn’t keep her.

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Until next time