More Journal work, and careening out the area to suspiciously louder engine sounds, which have been increasing all week (sometimes hard to tell, since there is a tendency to listen to the iPhone iPod at pretty robust dynamic levels...), such that suspect it may be time to finally purchase a new car. Perhaps presciently in this regard, unload Harriet's red Solidarity stepladders (the old Camino Real ones in an unauthorized transformation from the Echo -- yes they've been floating around in the back with an impressive paraphelian remainder accrued over the last couple of weeks) before departure past
yet again the Sulfur Springs,
Eden,
Stonewind,
et. al., for Quiz 10 -- Counterpoint -- with the Theoreticians, featuring excerpts of music by George Gershwin, Kurt Weill, Sergei Prokofiev, Anton Webern, and Louis Armstrong.
It's a Marin day, and indeed looking to be the last one for our heroic little 2002 313,000-miles-plus Echo, which is objecting to third gear a bit now, in addition to the notably cranky fourth -- first cropping up a year-and-two-months ago in the ascent of Mt. San Jacinto. As the usual practice since then has been a brisk shift to fifth directly from third, this now seems hazardous as well. Less of an issue while at healthy freeway speeds (though the increased noise seems to call to mind the calamitous related situation near Buelton several decades past...it's been that long...), but, of course, there remain those pesky slow-down downshifts. Enough suspense in the drive to keep things interesting, and at last reach
Novato Toyota, checking with the folks in the Service Department to confirm my perception that
with
the transmission really going south,
the catalytic converter "check engine" situation ongoing,
a windshield with two cracks and a ding,
and the miraculously notorious spontaneously crescendoing-decresdoing radio / tape deck (nostalgic even when purchased, of course),
it's time to get a new car.
As Yaris has been in the mind, since Nevada situation and before, it's no surprise that the cheapest-car-in-the-lot is such. Bit more than is perhaps needed with
power doors, windows, steering, brakes, etc.
air-conditioning, etc.
but perhaps it is time to join the 21st-century (all right, even the late 20th-, in these regards). Seems that if one can jump from a desktop PC to a laptop Mac, that one should be adaptable re cars as well. Now that CD's seem finally superseded, finally get player of same in the new car, but, more intriguingly, an aux imput suitable for iPhone / iPod -- could get used to this...
Richard's friendly manner takes us through the process from showroom exterior to sign-off, with a visit to
Jeff (originally from Brooklyn, who writes poetry, knows music, and was probably the gentleman I dealt with re same processes 7 years ago) the financing (with the hail-fellow-well-met assistance of local jovial cop [actually just hanging around during his coffee break] -- whom Richard had honked at while I was at the whhel during test drive over to bank to transfer relevant funds [the guy has a favorite no-turn-on-red revenue enhancement spot near the dealership] --
as friendly Mr. Law Enforcer departs, he quips, "Well, time to go out and meet some folks I've never met").
So there they are -- new and old. Latter to be donated to charity soon.
Takes about 15 minutes to transfer all the stuff from the one to the other, making the Yaris immediately lived-in -- although immediately clean it out upon return. Harriet is pleased, so am I -- looks like features such as the electronic locks and security will indeed be beneficial, not to mention four doors, fold-down back seats, etc.
Nevertheless, this year has seen the replacement of car, cellphone, computer, and -- ok, casual -- shoes -- rather a lot, really...
One re-organization merits another, so there's a bit of house-cleaning, too, plus prepare for publication and do visual libretto for
Sex and the Bible: The Opera (Part I): 5. Abraham and Isaac: II. The Separation (third strain), compose page 8 of
Pini di Surriento, and orchestrate page 3 of
The Gospel According to St. Matthew: XXIV. Beelzebub.
