New Hampshire’s annual car inspection regime expires on Jan. 1. Huzzah!
If I owned a car that could burn rubber — and I knew how to do it — I might shock my neighbors with a celebratory screech on our little dead end street in West Lebanon.
Actually, probably not. As a senior whose hearing is still good, I am an advocate of peace and quiet. I resent the (mostly black) pickup trucks that blast down main roads on their beer runs, or whatever they are up to. “Jerk,” I mutter. Take that!
I have mixed feelings about the demise of inspections. They’ve been a thorn in my side since 1982, when I arrived here in a VW Bug that had little heat, dubious tires and spreading rust. As Yeats wrote in his famous poem “The Second Coming,” later amplified by Chilton auto service manuals, “things fall apart.” And how.
I don’t remember if it made it through one inspection, but it surely did not survive two. Yet the patina of memory softens the warts and failings of old cars, so today I think of that green Beetle with fondness.
Some people like to hope our pets can join us in heaven, but wouldn’t it be something if a favorite car like that VW could be there, restored and gleaming. I suppose I could hope for a fancier car in paradise, but my faith isn’t big enough.
Back in the day, cheap cars still existed, and the cost of repairs might exceed the value of a vehicle. As young parents without a vast fortune of any kind, we fretted when mechanics looked over our car.
Full disclosure: Our primary car was always pretty good, worthy of three-hour trips to see the grandparents, or long, eventful family vacations, in which laughter and tears took turns in the back seats.
But our second vehicle, mine, was generally a true crap car. I worked just two miles from home, so risks were minimal. Dede may have rescued me once or twice with jumper cables at the Valley News parking lot, but that wasn’t much trouble — except that such moments can test your relationship as frustrations flare and sparks might, too.
We even survived jump-starting a VW a couple of times in the 1970s, wherein we both pushed and the driver (me) jumped in and popped the clutch. It was as exciting as most marriages ever get!
The case against inspections is that they burdened hard-pressed working people. Critics claimed statistics show they did little to reduce accidents. And people felt some shops and dealers took advantage of them. Umm, really?
The other side says inspections uncover serious safety problems, and cite the situation in Tennessee, where uninspected cars ride on bald tires and are held together with duct tape and chewing tobacco. And they signal turns with their middle finger!
When I was a young driver, in Rhode Island, there was no inspection law. The Providence Journal ran cheap classified ads for items under $100. There were regular listings for cars on their last legs, and my father, who had been in the gas business and perhaps was drawn to hopeless causes, bought one after another.
I remember a 1961 Rambler that got 30 miles to a quart of oil. There was a Chevy so diseased down below that the front bench seat rocked like a recliner. I drove carefully with cars like that and avoided the interstate. I am still here, so it mostly worked out.
In recent years we have found a trustworthy car shop, which has changed my outlook. Also, the kids grew up and moved out and we somehow have more money. Repairs no longer threaten our mental or financial well-being.
I would estimate, using the wild guess method of analysis, that we have saved $50,000 or more in some 40 years by underspending on second cars. We never had a loan on them. Something makes me think there is a financial lesson in this.
Our current second car is a 2007 Honda Fit that we have owned from its very beginnings. It has traveled nearly 179,000 miles and has stories to tell, but communicates only through moans and growls. It is not pretty, but the engine and transmission work fine, perhaps better than my own. It always starts, and I limit trips pretty much to Lebanon, Hartford and Hanover. We don’t ask too much of each other.
Inspections could be a pain because a mysterious check-engine light comes and goes in cold weather. Passing might take several tries and a winter thaw. Thanks to our mechanic it has very good brakes, and now and then I give swift and hearty thanks for them.
