The Story of My Life: The House That Built Me

Yes I ripped off the title of this chapter from a Miranda Lambert song. And I darn good one at that. But it perfectly represents the house I called home for nearly 10 years of my life and the first one I fell in love with. And thanks to the wonders of technology, if you go to google earth and type in 190 E. Water St. Abbottstown, PA, you can see it for yourself without having to travel there. A lot has changed in the past 17 years so some things may be different, but it'll be enough to feed your curiosity.

The brown ranch house was built upon a small hill. Short in stature, but long in length, she withstood the best of times and the worst of times. It overlooked the 18th hole of a golf course owned by a local country club. The country club also owned the house and the entire property surrounding it. Instead of demolishing the house and using the property, they deemed it more profitable to rent it out. And my parents were the fortunate ones to be able to do so. I don't recall the exact acres of the place, but in the eyes of a three year old, it was huge. There were enough trees on the property to create what would could be considered a woods or two. In what we called the back yard stood a large male mulberry tree. I say male because even though it was perfectly healthy, it never once produced mulberries. But it was an incredible climbing tree. I spent many summers hanging out on its upper branches.  Not too far south of that tree was a giant walnut tree. And yes this towering behemoth produced walnuts, as did a plethora of other walnuts trees found on site. Sadly, none of her branches were low enough for me to scale her. But what made her special is she had the perfect protruding branch to hang a swing from. So that's exactly what we did. That swing took me and my imagination on many other worldly adventures. 

To the north of both the trees near the road was cluster of pines that made the perfect tree fort. and directly next to them overlooking Water Street was a female mulberry tree the swamped our little gravel driveway with multitudes of mulberries each year. So many that my mother would have us kids collect tons of them which she used to make mulberry jam. Delicious. Behind these trees and away from the street was was a little, dark brown shed with a concrete open patio in front. We stored all our outdoor equipment here and packed it to the gills. Then behind that was a swing-set which some-how managed to survive all the years of many childhood antics that would occur on it. 

The furthest eastern edge contained a tiny, white, graveled road that led to the large maintenance garage the country club used for repairs and upkeep. We simply dubbed it as "The White Road" and it became the staring point for nearly every single bike race we ever had. The maintenance garage that it led to was a place we weren't supposed to be, but I've got a few tales from entering those premises. 

Just beyond the maintenance garage into the thicker part of the woods was a large hill that led to the country club's overflow parking lot. That lot was empty most of the time save for an occasional car or two. Because of this, us kids utilized that area all year round. 

And to finish up the exterior, behind the swing-set was a patch of treeless land, except for two sets of distanced trees at either end. These four trees on this patch of grass were incredibly important as they became natural soccer goals for us down the road. 

The interior through my eyes seemed huge, but in reality it wasn't that big at all. The door everyone used to enter into the house led straight into the kitchen. Then immediately to the right was a doorway that led to a standard sized living room. At the end of the living room was a door that led to the second biggest room in the house. Then to the left of that room was the side entrance to a long hallway (the main entrance was from the kitchen). This hallway led the cellar, the only bathroom in the house, and three other bedrooms. In the kitchen was a pantry door that led to the attic. The attic could also be accessed from a trap door in the closet of the back bedroom on the right. 

Some final tidbits about the inside. My parents obviously had the master bedroom which was in the back left of the hallway. The back right room was briefly used for storage. I had the small room on the master bedroom side and my sister Sarah had the large room off of the living room. The cellar was a place of terror as musty old stairs led to a concrete floor covered in dirt and shelves containing spider webs. Sometimes an unfortunate mouse or bird would seal their fate down there, leaving us to find their remains. The attic was a little better, but at times it was quite terrifying to be there as well. 

In hindsight, the house and the land weren't really all that impressive. But for young kids, it was a dream come true. Especially when your yard/woods took up as much space of at least 6 neighbor's properties combined. This was the place where my childhood identity was shaped. This was the place where my roots were formed. This was the place that built me.

The Story of My Life: New House, New Meeting Place, New Friends

Moving to the ranch house wasn't the only sweeping change in my life around this time. Being a child, I knew not of how not great things at Upper Adams were. Remember that church picnic I mentioned? Well that was officially our last day there, thus confirming in my childhood brain that it was a long program that had finally ended. I was only told later of how oppressive the leaders were and how it was more of a show than an actual place of worship. All that aside, the members of the congregation and the people I knew outside of the leaders were amazing people. It's their interactions in my life that I am appreciative for. 

After we left, Al & Sue met a couple by the name of Dan and Donna. This couple introduced them and my parents to what they called the local church life. What this meant was that wherever a group of believers was in any location, they met together with no agenda other than Christ and the Bible. There was no pastor, no set program, no band, etc. Now I'm not saying any of those things were bad, because they absolutely are not. But this was an interesting change that was much needed at the time. Al & Sue felt a strong leading and decided to open up their home for Sunday gatherings. It wasn't long before there was a decent group of us meeting together. Every Sunday there'd be singing, worship, praise, and fellowship all in Al & Sue's dome house. There'd also be children's service where one of the adults would bring us a lesson from the bible and then shortly after we'd be let loose to go outside and play. And the coolest part was we'd have lunch together afterwards on occasion. Sundays had become my new favorite day of the week. 

With these two major changes in my life, came more friends. I already mentioned Chalene and Cameron and actually before we moved I had another really close friend. Her name was Elise. Those of you who have been longtime readers know who she was, but for the rest of you, well you'll get to know her a bit more along the way. After the move, I gained 8 new friends, bringing the total to 11, that would make up the original core friend group of my childhood. They are Joe, Becca, Zeke, Melinda, Joanna, Maggie, Katherine, and Zach. Each of them entered my life in slightly different ways, but every single one of them had a profound impact on how my childhood turned out. 

Joe, Becca, and Zeke were all biological grandchildren of Al. Al was once married before Sue and Sue was also once married before Al. Both of their spouses passed and eventually they found each other. But whether the grandkids were biological or not, all three still called Sue Mamaw. Becca and Zeke are siblings and are both slightly older than I. Joe is their cousin and has a younger brother named Dan. Joe and I were born in the same year and once Al introduced us, we became fast friends and he became my best guy friend (Elise was my best girl friend). While Joe lived in PA, Becca & Zeke lived in Oklahoma. They came and stayed with Al & Sue for part of the summer each year. Whenever they did, Chalene, Cam, Zeke, Becca, Joe, and myself made up a tight friendship group that spent many wonderful summers together.

Elise came into my life not long after my parents moved from Texas to PA. Our moms were close friends and she was only two months younger than I. Our moms were in this program called Mom's Group which allowed for mothers to get together and do all sorts of fun things while other adults watched after their kids for that time. I loved it because I got to play with Elise and a bunch of toys I didn't have for a few hours each week. Our mom's also had each other over often so throughout the years we spent a lot of time at each other's houses. For the first half of my childhood, Elise played a prominent role in my life.

Maggie, Katherine, and Zach all were kids who lived in my new neighborhood. Maggie and Katherine were sisters and Zach was the youngest of four. Zach's story is unique in that he was the definition of a "surprise" baby. His parents had three grown children some of whom were already married. They were also grandparents to a 2-year old with a second grandchild on the way when Zach was born. It always blew my mind that he had a niece two years older than him and one who was nearly his age. Since all his siblings were grown and moved out, Zach spent a lot of time hanging with us. Maggie and Katherine also became close friends who became involved in a lot of things we did throughout the year. 

Then, somewhere between 1994-1996, a lady by the name of Alice began meeting with us on Sundays and she brought her two twin daughters Melinda and Joanna. The girls were Sarah's age and like Maggie and Katherine, they also became involved in a lot of things we did. We spent a lot of time at their house as they did ours. They were and still are inseparable.

I have only scratched the surface with these friends of mine, but I wanted to take the time to briefly introduce them because during the PA years, they were the people who were a big part of my life and will continue to appear as we go along. Of course I met more awesome people along the way, but these are what I consider as "the core". One thing I've learned after all these years is that even the earliest friendships matter. Don't take them for granted. 

The Story of My Life: The Big Move (#1)

 I was a month into my third year of life when my brother Tim was born in December of 1993. Our family count was now at 5 people. We were still living in the yellow duplex on Walnut Street, but that all was about to change within the next year. I mentioned previously that this house was owned by missionaries. They were coming home on furlough in the summer of 1994 and needed their house. Thus we had to move. This would be the third time in my existence, but the first I could remember. We didn't quite have another place lined up yet, so there was a bit of a predicament. However, Al & Sue stepped up to the plate and offered to let us move in with them until we had a place of our own. All five of us plus them in their dome-shaped house Al had built years ago. 

Now Al was a brilliant man who had an engineer's mind and put it to good use. The house was one of a kind and I have not seen another like it. The outer walls were built entirely out of concrete and wood logs that were cut. Think of brick and mortar but replace them with logs and concrete with more concrete than logs. The roof was a large dome shape with two octagonal windows at the top and a triangle on just beneath the two. It looked like an old-school idea of a flying saucer and the oddly shaped windows seemed to give it a face. While the house itself was a marvel, the other things he managed to do with it and on his property were wonders in their own right. 

Two examples that immediately come to mind are how he heated the place and how he had running water. In between the living room and the kitchen was a small wood stove. That tiny wood stove heated the entire house. Using his engineer mind, Al had designed a heating system based off that stove from a similar old world Russian heating system. And it worked like a charm. All he had to do was pop open the heavy little door and toss more wood in and the entire house was nice and toasty. The other thing Al did was that he managed to dig into an underground river that pumped thousands of gallons of water per minute. He piped it into his house set it up so it was the main source of running water they had. I mention this mainly because this source of water eventually became part of a chore in life that drove me bananas, but I'll explain that in a later chapter.

As a three year old, I called this dome house home, but only for a short while. While I lived there, Al was working on something in his house (he was always adding to it) and he needed a giant black scaffolding. At day's end, that scaffolding became a jungle gym for us kids. But don't worry, Al removed the platforms so we couldn't get very high. Another perk of living there was that we got to experience their birds. Al & Sue kept a number of birds as pets. The had a few parakeets which were quite cute but also could be annoying with their sharp and shrill chirps. But the really beauties were the two African Gray parrots they had. Al built an extension off his sunroom that was basically a zoo-like bird enclosure so they didn't have to be kept in a cage. They were beautiful and docile. Al's favorite thing to do was to walk in, put one on his shoulder and ask for a kiss. The birds would always comply. Then he'd put a peanut in his teeth and let the birds take it directly from his mouth. We loved it. I was practically living in a kids paradise...

...which only lasted a few months. I didn't comprehend the fact that we were moving from Al & Sue's. The day my parents began packing up they got me out of their hair because I got invited to a birthday party from a family we knew at Upper Adams. For some reason their name eludes me, but that day does not. They came over and picked me up in the morning. I spent the late morning and early afternoon playing at their house. Then they put me down for a nap as the party was in the evening and they didn't want a cranky 3-year old on their hands. After the nap, it was time for birthday festivities, but not at their house. We were returning to the scene of the crime at my old stomping grounds. Kids Biz. Hey I did say it was a poor man's Chuck E. Cheese. Between the games, prizes, cake, and presents, I completely forgot that we were moving. I do remember when the birthday boy was opening gifts, someone got him toy cowboy guns which were all the rage back then. As he realized what they were, he excitedly shouted "Guns! I got guns!" His mom chided him to tone it down a bit, but nobody in the establishment batted an eye or seemed the least bit concerned. That's kind of how life was back then. 

Finally, it was time to take me home. The parents of the kid who had the birthday party drove me back, but not to Al & Sue's. They parked in this unfamiliar place in front of a long, brown, ranch house. Here we are!" they said excitedly. I immediately got worried and started saying I wanted to go back to Al & Sue's. They calmed me down and assured me this was my new home. They walked me up the flight of concrete steps that led up to the front door. Little did I know then that those steps would serve my feet (and shenanigans) for years to come. I was still unsettled until my parents answered the door. My fears melted right there. The couple said goodbye and I spent the next few minutes telling my parents about my day and showing them all the candy I got from the party. They then got me ready for bed and tucked me in for the first night in the place I would come to call home for nearly the next 10 years. This was the place where my entire childhood was about to happen. This was home.

The Story of My Life: Foundations Begin

 After my parents had settled in PA, they wanted to find a place to meet with other Christians. They ended up joining a congregation in Upper Adams, PA. It was here where we met some people who were going to play very prominent roles in my life. The first were an older couple named Al & Sue. They had a grandson who was 6 months older than me by the name of Joe. Him and I became fast and very close friends. The other family we met who became very prominent in my life were Tom, Sandy, and their two kids Chalene & Cameron. But more on all of them later. 

There were many other families I met that I can't remember their full names but I still remember their faces. One family in particular had a son named Daniel. He was a few years older than me, on the tall and lanky side, wore thick rimmed glasses that were quite prominent in the 80s and 90s, and had a very distinct voice. There's one particular memory with him that I'll never forget. I'm not sure of the time frame but it took place in the mid-90s and it was in the summer. Al & Sue had a lot of us kids over at their house. They told us they had a surprise. Turns out they were taking us to a prominent fun center in my area called Kids Biz. This place was basically a knock-off of Chuck E. Cheese. The main food was pizza, they had a robot band of animal mascots, and a ton of games to play to win tickets for prizes. Their main mascot was a bear named Billy Bob. He made occasional appearances to entertain the kids. As a young child, I did not realize that he was just a person in a costume. I was about to find this out the hard way. Daniel and I decided to take a restroom break. The restrooms were located at the end of a long hallway. As we were walking there, one of the side doors was open. Daniel and I peeked in and saw Billy Bob lying on a table with his head not attached. Shocked, we ran over to Al & Sue while shouting that Billy Bob was dead. Imagine the horror on the other parents in the place and the staff who heard these two obnoxious children announcing that their beloved mascot was dead. Thanks to Sue's quick thinking, she calmed us down and asked why we thought that. We explained what we saw and she broke the news to us that it was just a costume. Shortly after that incident, we walked by again to find the door tightly shut and a little later, Billy Bob made another appearance to show us he was alive and well. What a memory that was.

Now back to the congregation. For some reason I'll never understand, my child brain strongly believed that the church we joined was a long program that was one day going to end. I ran with this thought the whole time we were there. While a lot of my memories are slightly foggy and fragmented from those days, I still remember a small handful from this place in detail. I remember being in children's service around Easter and the lady who was serving us gave us all these plastic eggs filled with M&Ms. She didn't want us to scarf them down all at once so she told us that they were like medicine and we could only have some at certain times. So whenever she would allow us to have some, she'd say "okay class, we can take some medicine now." She'd grab one or two from her stash and demonstrate how to eat them with manners and we'd follow suit. When my parents picked me up and asked me what I had, I proudly exclaimed "medicine!" They were probably relieved to find out they were only M&Ms.

Once a week, we would stop in the church's bookstore and rent vhs tapes that contained animated bible stories. I loved doing this because it was cool to see all the tapes behind glass and I got to pick one to take home and watch. From the services I remember them being very upbeat with a full music group on stage, people standing, arms raised, and some dancing. It was wild in the eyes of a four year old. I always got excited when the collection plate came around as my dad would give me some change or some dollar bills to throw in. There was a playground on the property that I utilized quite often and would spend hours on it if I could. 

The very last memory I have of this place was an enormous church picnic at after service. Either we never attended one or this was the first one of they had in a long time. There were a lot more people there than normal. At one point I had nothing but a plate full of animal crackers and was talking to another little girl whose name I cannot recall. They even opened the above ground pool and a good number of kids were going swimming. One boy asked me if I was coming, but my parents said no as we were leaving. I remember at this moment thinking that this was it. That the church service I thought was one long program was ending. That this picnic was the last hurrah. The chain of events that were already in motion were about to affirm my childhood perspective although in reality, it wasn't entirely true. But the fact was that this was the last time my family and I would be attending that church in Upper Adams. Change was coming in more ways than one.

The Story of My Life: The Beginning

 I came into existence November 2, 1990. Born in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, to two God-fearing parents with bible degrees. My father (Rick) was from a small town in Southern-central Pennsylvania and my mother (Sandy) from a very small town in Northern Wisconsin. My father made his living as an auto parts salesman and my mother was a missionary in West Africa before she met my dad. How did these two souls find each other? My grandfather on my Dad's side wanted to donate to a mission and wanted to know the person he was helping. So he was put in contact with my mom via letters. He eventually mentioned he had a son and put them in touch via letters as well. My parents wrote back and forth and I believe sent photos of each other. Keep in mind that there was no internet nor widespread cell phones back in the 1980s. So letters took three weeks to travel halfway across the world. My mom eventually went home on a brief furlough and met my Dad in person. Something began to form between them, but my mom eventually had to go back to Africa. Near the end of her service, my Dad flew out to Africa to get her. They came back to the USA and were married in October of 1989. Then they started dating as my mom likes to say. 

My parents lived in Wisconsin that first year as my mom had been away from her family for so long which is how I ended up being born in Wisconsin. After a year, my parents joined a Christian group called Christ for the Nations and ended up moving to Dallas, TX. In May of 1992 my sister Sarah was born. She was born in the very hospital John F. Kennedy was taken to when he was shot. Being 1.5 years old, I really have no memory of the days I spent in Texas. 

After a year, my parents left Christ for the Nations and moved to Hanover, PA near where my Dad is from. We moved into a duplex owned by a missionary couple who were currently overseas. Believe it or not, my two year-old brain decided to start recording memories here. I remember that yellow duplex located on Walnut Street. And all these stories I'm going to share are mostly straight from memory. Not from pictures, nor my parents, but from my own recollection.

I remember my friend Daryl who lived on the other side of the duplex. Then the house next to us had some older neighbors who I was terrified of because they seemed like the grumpy type (especially when we launched toys into their yard). My parents used to buy food from the Schwann Truck and I expected ice cream every time. We had a swing set I climbed all over and a green turtle sandbox that we played in. A few particular memories were on nice summer nights we'd take walks around the neighborhood and sometimes end up at the nearby park. I'd pay attention to the sun setting through the leaves on the trees, the dogs we passed by on walks of their own, and the random things happening in the neighborhood. 

But there is one memory my two year old self somehow retained in full detail and to this day, I don't understand why it's this one. One afternoon, my mom was taking me upstairs for a nap. That day I really did not want to. So I put up a little bit of a fuss, but she finally managed to get me in bed. I waited until she left and I heard her go all the way down the stairs. Once she did, I got out of bed and grabbed the yard stick that was propped up against the wall. I stood on the bed and looked out through the nearby window. I saw my mom hanging up laundry on the clothes lines. I took the yard stick and began banging on the window and calling her name to see if she'd notice. I saw her stop, look around, look up, and head back toward the house. She came up into the room and found me happily tapping on the window. She then took the yard stick from me, put me back down in the bed, and told me I needed to go to sleep otherwise I was going to be in trouble and have to go to bed earlier. I became compliant and fell asleep. To this day I still don't understand out of all the awesome things I could've remembered, this memory was it. 

A few other memory fragments include waving goodbye to my dad as he left the house for work in the mornings, my grumpy neighbor tossing my squeaky bat from his yard back into ours, sliding up and down the stairs without getting hurt, climbing the doorway frame, protecting my Sesame Street table from my little sister, and playing with my next-door neighbor Daryl. I wish I had more full memories from this stage in my life, but unfortunately children's brains in the early stages don't retain all that much. We weren't long for the house on Walnut Street, but more of that to come later.

Author's note: I realize when I introduced that I was doing this that I called it an autobiography. Well it's actually going to by a hybrid autobiography/memoir as not only will it tell my history, but will at times focus on a collection of memories from my life. 

Adios 2020: Ye Shall Not Be Missed

 For those of you who have followed this blog for some time, you would be expecting my end of the year recap here. I pondered a lot if I should do one or not. And to be honest, I really don't want to reminisce on many things that happened this year. Setting COVID-19 aside, there's a number of other things that occurred, both to me and the world, that would've made this year forgettable. So I'm not going to do one. Simple as that. Instead, I will write about things I look forward to hopefully in 2021 and for sure post COVID. But...I do want to point out two things that did happen to me this year that were amazing.

I was in a rough spot in 2017. I was a year out of college, no job in sight, my Australia trip looking like it wasn't going to happen, and I was down to less than $100 to my name. But God showed me his grace and provided me with a job. It was only supposed to be 18 months, but 7 months in, my company switched my recruiter and made my contract renewable, meaning unless I did something catastrophic, my contract would be renewed every year. Then, after being employed for 3 years and 2 months, I was promoted from a contractor to a salaried employee. During a pandemic. In a time when many people lost their jobs, are struggling, companies are cutting back, I got security. My 5 years of college classes finally paid off. And there's no way that would've happened without the grace of God.

The second thing that happened this year was I finally was able to purchase a car less than 3 years old and less than 20,000 miles. No more 10 year old, 100,000+ mile cars that need constant upkeep. I'm truly grateful and hope to have this one last for years to come.

Now I know the virus isn't going to magically disappear as the calendar changes from 2020 to 2021. But with vaccines finally available and with some knowledge of this virus being known (unlike March when it caught us off-guard), I have hope that 2021 will be better. Below are some things I hope to see happen in 2021.

I miss traveling. And not just to the next state over. I miss buying a plane ticket to a new city. I miss seeing things I've always wanted to see, experiencing local food and culture, and the thrill of the unknown. Some of the best memories in my life have come from my trips. I have a list of destinations, plans, and things I want to do and see here in the new future. I may have to get creative, but I'm going to try and make things happen.

I miss being with people. Like a lot. BBQs, geocaching events, holiday parties, Sunday gatherings, watching sports at restaurants, eating out, I can go on. Hopefully these things are more probable next year.

I miss being at Progressive Field and watching baseball. Even if you don't really follow or care about the sport, being at a ballgame can still be a really good time. I have so many wonderful memories at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. I hope for the chance to return in 2021.

I also hope for those who struggled vastly, suffered loss in any form, that 2021 would be good to you. That you would be able to find hope, that things would turn around for you, and that you may be able to find joy.

Lastly, I want to make an announcement. For many years I've had the thought of doing this, hoping that maybe one day it will be in published form. While I still have my good memory, starting in January 2021 at minimum once a month, I'm going to post about my life. So an autobiography, but in blog form. The plan is to do so until I've caught up to current day. A lofty goal I know, but I'm going to do my best to keep up with it. Does this mean I'll only blog about that? Nope. When I get the urge to post about something else, I'll do so. And in order to not get confused, any post pertaining to the blog autobiography will have "The Story of My Life" in the title. Does this also mean I'm limiting the posts to one or two a month? Nope again. The minimum is going to be one autobiography post a month. But I know once I come to a number of different places in my life, I'll probably spit out a bunch at once. Also, it's not going to be sugar coated in the sense that I leave some bad things out or make things way better or worse than they actually were. It'll be raw at times, it'll be intense, and it'll be real. 

On that note, I'm ending the last blog post of 2020. Here's to hoping for a much better 2021 and goodwill to you all!

The Last Ride of the Lady in Blue; So Long Malibu

 In 2017, my first love, a 2004 Dodge Intrepid, decided to cough up a transmission at 214,000 miles. So I sadly said adios and welcomed my second love, a 2008 Blue Chevy Malibu.

She was in excellent condition for a car with 127,000 miles. I expected many good things from her. So much so that like the Intrepid before her, two months after I got her, I took her on a long road trip. It was a special one because during the summer, I was in Australia and missed our family trip back to Pennsylvania. So I decided that I was going to make the 6 hour drive to PA and surprise my Grandparents for Christmas. She handled it like a champ. Got me there no problems and gave me a Christmas to remember. I had to give her more of a test on the way back by taking her through the mountains. What a drive around those crazy turns that was. 

Her next big test was five months later when I went on another solo road trip to Cincinnati. The test wasn't really the drive down, but more-so all the hills that Cincy has. I wasn't sure if she was going to make some of them. She also did a lot of stopping and starting as I went from geocache to geocache over the weekend. I had so much confidence in her that I dipped down into Kentucky for a brief visit before heading back to Cleveland. Smooth sailing all the way.

One summer her age started to show with interior pieces starting to wear down and some rust began forming on the edges above the wheels. On vary rare occasions (once a year) the power steering would just conk out. But the next time I started her up, no issue. The interior issues weren't good enough for some high school kids I was driving around and they told me my car was broken and I needed a new one. Sheesh. But I didn't think so. I still thought she had a good chunk of life in her.

After a year and six months, I put her up to a double test. It was June of 2019. I drove her up to Detroit to watch a Tigers game at Comerica Park. I wasn't quite sure where to park so I looked for paid parking lots nearby. The first one I came to was tightly packed and had a dirt floor instead of asphalt. Then after I paid the guy at the booth, I found out that they valet it to an open spot. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I just drove 2.5 hours to Detroit and wondered if I was ever gonna see it again. Well I went and watched the ballgame and watched the Indians beat the Tigers and Jake Bauers hit the cycle. So as an Indians fan, the game was awesome. I then walked the handful of blocks back to the parking lot. I gave the guys at the booth my parking card and they retrieved my keys and pointed to where she was. I breathed a sigh of relief. I tipped the booth guys, thanked them, and then promptly drove 40 min to Ann Arbor where I was going to spend the rest of the weekend.

The second part of the test came soon and unexpectedly. Two days after I left Ann Arbor, my grandfather passed. So the following less than two weeks later, I drove me and two of my brothers 6 hours back to Pennsylvania. She new the route well, but even though she gave me a tire scare (faulty TMPS sensor) she pulled it off again.

After we returned, I decided to get her oil changed and a check-up. My mechanic suggested new tires would be a good idea and it made sense since I could tell they were getting bad from the previous winter. She'd been good to me this far with no major problems. I had to change brake pads, spark plugs, and rear shocks, but that's normal for a well used car. So I ponied up and got her new rubber. 

As the Fall of 2019 neared, the problems began to come. The rust around the edges got worse, to the point I could stick my hand through a rust hole. Then the actuator in my heating/cooling system went leaving a constant ticking noise wherever I drove. Not a cheap fix. A month later, my right front wouldn't hold air. My mechanic re-adjusted it and it would hold air for a week before I'd have to fill it again. A couple weeks later, my left front started leaking. I thought I had it under control, but driving back from Pittsburgh in January, about 40 minutes from home, I knew the left front was really low. I'm pretty sure I drove it those last 40 minutes on 10 psi. I tried to nurse it the next week, but that was a bad idea as I left walked out of work one day to a completely flat tire. Drove it home on a donut. Found out that both the front rims were bent. Went out and got four aftermarket rims on it. Another punch to my wallet. Then, a week later, all hell broke loose when I couldn't accelerate, my RPMs were shooting above 6000, and I was livid. The timing mechanism in my engine went. For a car with 160,000 miles on it among other internal issues, there was no way the car was worth making that fix. But unfortunately for me, I just sunk a good chunk of money into it, wasn't looking for a new car, and needed a functioning car now. So I bit the bullet hard and got it fixed. My wallet screamed at me.

As you know from a previous post, I got into a fender bender in the summer. I messed up her front pretty good. Thankfully only cosmetic damaged occurred, but it still pained me. I was hoping I could make it one more year, but then, on my 30th birthday, the started died in a Discount Drugmart parking lot and forced me to call a tow truck. I got the starter fixed and now was heavily looking into my next car. While I was doing so, I had the Malibu appraised by a dealer and they informed me the front end suspension was rusted out...yikes. This poor car aged so fast on me that I wish she would've acted up sooner before I put the tires on, as much as that pains me to say. So I finally found my third love and I took my Lady in Blue on one last long slow drive to the dealership where I left her for good. 

Before all her problems, she was pretty, she drove like a dream, put up with my hard turns, sharp angles, and even some stupid quick lane shifts, and she got me where I needed to go. Through heavy rains and blinding Cleveland snow, she was my baby. And I know it's just a car, but she was my car. She was the first big purchase I made after almost going broke and being without a job for a whole year. And her name was Emily.