I drive a ghetto-sled. It's a big green Lincoln Continental thats on the far side of 100,000 miles. It's a comfortable car and runs great, and I *love* not having a car payment. However, there are a few little things that need some attention. My air conditioner compressor died in September, but luckily it's been cold since then and it hasn't been an issue. But I'm moving back to the desert next month, so the repair bill is looming.
The most interesting quirk of my pimp-mobil is the air-ride system. It has a mind of it's own. Sometimes the car wants to be a lowrider, sometimes it wants to be a hot rod--all jacked up in back and hugging the pavement up front. The downside to this is that I have absolutely no control over it. I'll be driving along just fine, then I'll hear a beep, see the idiot light come on, and suddenly I feel like I'm driving two-ton pickup truck over a washboard road instead of a luxury sedan trimmed in fine Corinthian leather.
It's rather embarrassing driving it through the ghetto to get to my house, too. The homeys on the corner must think I'm mocking them or something. But since it's not a true low-rider, they think of me the same way the popular kids with the OP shirts in high school did when I tried to sit at their lunch table in my Kmart Hobie.
I'm finally getting it fixed next week, but I don't know which one will be the bigger number--the repair bill or the Blue Book value.