Total Loss: Nothing Lasts Forever, R.I.P.!

Life has an interesting way of intervening in the course of human events. To paraphrase Robert Burns, "The best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry." I had efficiently queued-up the topic for this week’s post, but the fates derailed my efforts.

Last Thursday, former Senator George Mitchell released a 409-page report of his findings on steroid use in baseball. Suddenly, while Barry Bonds may still be a villain, he is certainly no longer baseball’s Lone Ranger of “juice.” Apparently, if Barry was playing dirty, he had a significant amount of company, including other baseball heavyweights.

This past summer, when the Bonds’ storm was moving with gale-force strength, and the speed of a category 5 hurricane, I opined that fierce competitors in baseball and many other popular sports have long sought, and used the source of the keenest competitive edge available. The Mitchell Report seems to confirm that, at least in baseball, by implicating some of the sport’s beloved royalty, including Roger Clemens. Nevertheless, I digress.

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.” Juliet Capulet uttered those famous lines to Romeo Montague at the end of Scene II in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

I lost a dear, loyal, and long-time acquaintance today. As these things so often go, even though it was not totally unexpected, the moment was sobering, still. In spite of the fact, I saw it coming; the advanced information simply neither prepared me for, nor neutralized the brutal sting of finality.

It all began a couple of weeks ago when my friend suffered severe internal damage, and lost a significant portion of vital fluids. As the primary caregiver, I contacted an expert, of course. He reported the prognosis was not good, and laid out the list of options available to me. Like any savvy individual, faced with such uncertain circumstances, I requested a second, and then a third opinion.

Ultimately, however, the subject matter experts agreed, and rendered parallel opinions. The collective conclusion was, resolving the matter required a costly procedure, which in turn might reveal even more serious damage, which could require additional costly procedures. This conundrum screamed triage.

Pressed to a last resort, after taking a symbolic deep breath, I reluctantly consulted the insurance carrier. Yesterday afternoon, the carrier's representative called with the news. He patiently detailed the list of maladies and the cost of correcting them by using the proposed treatment alternative. He then restated my friend’s profile, including age, and specific condition. Clearly, he had done the cost/benefit analysis. At the end of his spiel, he rendered the news in a clear and measured tone, perfected by practice, “Your car is a Total Loss.”

Yes, if you have not figured it out by now, this is an allegory. By any reasonable assessment, it is just a car. But to me…well, having owned that 1986 Kalahari (Gold, if you must) Porsche 944 since it was new, 21 and ½ years ago, let me just say, I am unable to bend my mind to the point of making a reasonable assessment of the matter. I can stipulate that!

Today, it was time for the solemn death march. I drove out to the funeral home, excuse me, I mean the repair shop, to remove my remaining personal effects, and the license plate. Over two decades of memories washed over me as I gathered my belongings. Although in need of a wash, the car…scratch that, the automobile still looked good. Of course the sporty stance belied the puncture in the oil pan that had allowed all the oil to escape. And who knows if there was any residual engine damage?

Not I. In fact, I prefer not to know, and instead remember that the last time I drove the Porsche, two weeks ago today; it operated like the precision machine it had been, since 1986. As I left the repair shop, taking one last glance in my rear view mirror, I contemplated the Porsche’s next move, to the auto graveyard, more familiarly known as the salvage shop. I thought to myself, having lasted 21 and ½ years was quite an accomplishment. That is 99 years in dog years for all the pet lovers, PETA members, and Michael Vick haters out there.

Finally, in retrospect, while driving away, I whispered, “I derived more than 21 years of driving pleasure, covering 229,633 miles. Really, it as not a Total Loss: Nothing lasts forever, R.I.P.!”

That’s it for me today; holla back!


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porsche_944

http://www.conceptcarz.com/vehicle/z9948/default.aspx

http://www.carsurvey.org/modelyear_Porsche_944_1986.html

http://www.fueleconomy.gov/feg/noframes/1740.shtml

http://www.automotive.com/1986/09/porsche/944/index.html

http://www.automobilemag.com/am/1986/porsche/944/recalls.html

http://www.carsforsale.com/used_cars_for_sale/1986_Porsche_944_40863372

http://en.allexperts.com/q/Porsche-Repair-829/1986-Porsche-944-oil.htm

http://www.internetautoguide.com/auto-recalls/99-int/1986/porsche/944/base-coupe/313/index.html

http://www.944central.com/