Since I FOERST saw the car - it's been drama, drama, and more drama.
When I FOERST went after the car, it said "$1150 needs work". I went to test drive it (at a ghetto-arsed mini-dealer @ 10th & Northside), and the guy said he didn't have a key. He said all the keys to all the cars on the lot were in a bag, and he lost it. He said I could have a key made to test drive it, but it would cost me $50. I wanted the car, so I paid to have a key made.
The key was made, inserted into the ignition, and alas - the car wouldn't start. "Battery's dead... it's been sitting here a while" (which it hadn't), the guy said. He brought over a li'l jumper box & gave'r a pulse of fresh juice. The key was inserted into the ignition again, and she began saying "onio, onio, onio..." but wouldn't say "onion". "It's outta gas... it's been sitting here a while" (again... it was fresh on the lot). He sprayed some fuel into the carb... and after a li'l effort... ol' grrrl turned over.
Hooman and I both drove her, and returned to the corner lot, at which time, I said I'll give you $800 cash right now. He said no-can-do. After a good five minutes of back and forthing... I walked off the lot, and he pulled the car back into it's lonely little spot. I told him to call me if he changed his mind... otherwise - good luck selling it.
A week went by... and I stumbled back onto the lot. He came out with a big grin saying "I knew you'd be back". I said "I know you knew I'd be back... I've got $900... that's all I can do". He said "I can't go lower than $1000"... I said "sold".
SO... he proceeds to fill the back of the title out wrong, so when I go to transfer registration to my name... the DMV shuts me down. They tell me I had to go back and get a written letter from him explaining the situation. I return to the dealer... a week after I purchased the car, only to find that he's up and skipped town. The landlord said he hadn't paid rent, and he changed all the locks. After a month of trying to hunt that axxxhole down... I finally settle on getting a title bond from NY, releasing the "invalid" title from the equation, and allowing me to register the car. When I went to register - I got a different teller, who got upset that I had a title bond - because she said I didn't need one in the FOERST place. At that point - I didn't care... I just wanted things settled.
Fast forward to tonight... my twentySicksth birthday. The eight-six has been sitting in my garage... with a dead battery and a flat front tyre (which was very stuck on the car) for several months. I decided that I'd bring her back to life on my birthday, so I could push her around towne while the cage goes in the e46.
After applying some sort of magic muscle force I didn't know I had... I broke the rusted lugnuts loose, and was able to remove the flat tyre... replacing it with the spare. A little carb cleaning and fiddling got her to turn over. I was soooo happy! I wanted to take the car for a spin around the block to celebrate. She hadn't been driven in a while... so she was begging!
I decided I'd run the car over to Sandy Springs Toyota, and night-drop it... just to have things looked over before I try and drive her to and from work in traffic. I have a strong feeling the motor runs hot, and the temp gauge doesn't work (nor the fuel gauge). Plus the motor bogs down at certain rpms. Little stuff like that. I figured I'd call a taxi, have them meet me there... and bring me back to dM HQ. Simple enough, right?
Well, I called one taxi at the recommendation of my concierge... who's voicemail said "I'm away from my desk... for a minute - leave a message & I'll call you back ASAP". I left a message as I was pulling out of the apartment complex. Here was my mistake! Apparently, from my research tonight... taxi's don't really run past midnight out here. In the city you'd sure be alright... but not here in Dunwoody/Sandy Springs.
I felt the car pulling in the direction of the spare... so I stopped at a gas station to look. AHA! The spare was now half flat. I dropped $.50 into the air pump, only to find out it was broken. I got another cab company phone number from the attendant... rinsed and repeated the same process onto the next gas station. That air pump worked... but the air didn't do anything to the li'l spare that was now completely flat. The attendant at that gas station gave me another taxi company #... rinse and repeat further down Roswell Road.
Basically... I finally just said screw it all. I night dropped the Hachi at the dealer, and walked all the way home.
YahooMaps says it's a whopping 1.8 miles... which isn't rediculously far. It was kinda fun in a way. All the way home I just thought about how much I love that car... and all the drama that comes along with it. I guess I wouldn't have it any other way.That concludes my tale of this evening's eight-six adventure. If you made it this far, I owe you a ride in the li'leight-six of doom!
Thanks for reading!
[/story]
W! Good story.
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