In love with your car? You're not alone...

July 14, 2:22 PMDenver Relationship Transition ExaminerAnn Ulrich Miller

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The Toyota Starlet I loved in the early 80s

Last week I decided to trade in my Ford Windstar for a Subaru Outback. Living in the mountains of Colorado prompted me to find a reliable, all-wheel-drive car that can handle snow. It wasn't such a big deal when I had a husband to call -- in case I got stuck somewhere -- and particularly a husband with a big 4WD truck (named "Big Red") -- but those days are behind me.

I didn't realize how difficult it was going to be last week, leaving "Windy Blue" at the car lot as I drove away with the temporary tags on my new Sube. I glanced back over my shoulder before pulling onto the highway and sighed with remorse.

Windy Blue had been an excellent companion for more than two years. My late husband and I had picked him out at a Ford dealer in St. Marys, West Virginia, in March 2007. We had been driving a small White Chevy Cavalier up till that time, and the zippy little auto got awesome gas mileage but was simply too small and inconvenient for my 6-foot-2 husband to climb in and out of, especially in his condition. The Windstar provided a multitude of conveniences for us. It had all power doors, locks, seats and automatic door openers for the two side entrances, which was great for our dog. It was fun to drive and had all kinds of neat gadgets, some of which I never did figure out how to operate.

Windy Blue became an important member of our family. When my husband was so sick that he couldn't walk from the garage to the house any more, I would drive the mini-van around the house to the bedroom patio door and deliver Ethan almost to his bedside. We'd never had any trouble with that vehicle, except for one minor annoyance... the window on the driver's side did not go up and down easily. Every time I took it in to the Ford garage for its regular three-month oil change, I'd mention that window to the guys in the service department.

"Okay, we'll check it out," they promised me. I told them to replace it, if they had  to. Afterwards, I'd get the report: "There's nothing wrong with that window, ma'am," and they'd demonstrate to me how the power window rolled up and down effortlessly. "No sense fixing somethin' that ain't broke."

Then I'd drive away, baffled. Five minutes later, I'd roll the window down and it would get stuck again! I finally gave up trying to get them to fix the
problem. Actually, it was the only thing wrong with Windy Blue, and if all my problems in life were that minor, what a delight it would be to wake up each morning.

Windy Blue carried my dog Ranger, my cat Jessica, myself and a friend across the country last May when we left the East and returned to live in Colorado. I felt bonded with that car and, even though I planned to look around for a mountain vehicle once I got back to Colorado, I was reluctant to give up this important member of my family. Ethan and I had bought the Windstar together, which made it special in itself. Parting with it was kind of like having to lose him all over again.

Now I've got "Miss Sube," and she's a smart-looking cookie, drives well, has low mileage for a 2004, and has promised to get me around this mountainous terrain in the winter. I'm still trying to adjust to less room and sitting lower to the ground. The dog likes it because he has a bench seat to lie upon instead of having to straddle two bucket seats in the back, plus he can stick his nose out the window again. I'm thrilled to be able to get the driver's side window down and back up again.

It seems I've gotten attached to all the cars I've driven in my life. The first vehicle I owned belonged to my first husband. It was an old 1961 white Dodge sedan that he used in high school. After we were married and the Dodge finally gave out, we bought our first new car, a 1975 Chevy Vega... a green little zipper that went with us to Aspen, Colorado when we moved there in 1978 with our toddler son. I remember I had to learn to drive stick shift with the Vega. My husband didn't have the patience to teach me, so my father-in-law took me out a few times on back roads until I got the hang of it. From then on I loved driving stick-shift cars.

We traded in the Vega for an old white VW wagon, and later on we traded again for a VW Rabbit, and finally a new Toyota Starlet that was copper colored. How I loved that little car. She was little but fun to drive. One hot August day we crammed our two small boys into the back of it, along with our suitcases, and drove to the Midwest on a summer vacation. It was so hot that trip and, with no air conditioning, we drove straight through without stopping.

The Starlet was the most efficient car I ever drove, but it didn't have a lot of power going over the passes. Two weeks after we got it, my first husband hit a deer with it. A year later, when we were in Oregon, somebody side-swiped the Starlet when it was parked outside the newspaper where I worked. But it survived both catastrophes and it was a sad day indeed when we traded it in after the birth of our third son, in order to bring home a Jeep Wagoneer. That behemoth turned out to be dysfunctional, so we ended up buying a Ford Bronco instead.

I was driving the Bronco when I met my late husband... not knowing at the time, of course, that he would be my next husband. My divorce from my first husband led to having to trade in the Bronco for an Aerostar van (his) and a Datsun B210 (for me). The Datsun was the first car in my name only and an important part of my independence.

In spring of 1991 Ethan and I took the boys to Glenwood Springs during their spring break for a soak in the hot springs pool. Driving back to Paonia by way of Redstone, we hit a freak snowstorm and couldn't get up McClure Pass. We were faced with having to turn back and drive back to Glenwood, take I-70 west to Grand Junction and all the way around. The Datsun B210 was only a two-wheel-drive and had no "oomph!"

The boys were all screaming at me. "Mom, you're gonna go off the side of the mountain!" The Datsun was sliding all over the road. Ethan got out and began pushing the car up the pass. He made me rev the accelerator all the way to the floor while he ran behind the car, pushing it up McClure Pass. The boys continued wailing in terror.

Four-wheel drive vehicles passed us in the snow storm, heads riveted on this older gentleman who was pushing the little blue car that contained three screaming boys and a frightened woman at the wheel. One lady in a Jeep actually stopped with her four-way flashers on and ran over to pat Ethan on the back. Then she got back inside her Jeep and continued up the pass.

It must have taken us close to an hour to get the Datsun up to the top of McClure Pass that afternoon. I was so scared that the car would quit and roll back over on top of Ethan, but it didn't. He told me not to let up on the gas pedal. Talk about stress... all the wonderful benefits of relaxing in those healing hot waters were wasted. I was a wreck. But we made it. We reached the top of the pass and then Ethan, exhausted and panting, climbed into the car and I drove the rest of the way home.

Glancing over at him a little worriedly, I saw that he had a grin on his face. "That was a good experience," he exclaimed with his usual positive attitude toward problems in life.

Eventually, the Datsun B210 was sold and in its place I bought my first Subaru wagon, the "Green Bomb." That car was such a blessing, especially when we moved to the country and had a long, icy driveway to maneuver during the hard winter of 1993. I drove the Subaru for years and years, and then came into possession of a Toyota Camry, so the Green Bomb went to my son, who still has it. The Camry had its quirks. Its previous owner, who had considered himself a creative mechanic of sorts, had tampered with certain functional parts of the engine. I had to keep a hammer under the driver's seat for those times when the car wouldn't start. I'd lift the hood, then pound a little on the starter, and the car would then start up.

There was also a second ignition switch in that Camry. If it didn't start up right away, you turned the second switch below it, and that usually did the trick. It was an eccentric little blue car, but I loved driving it and eventually passed it on, as well, to my son. By then, Ethan and I had the Chevy Cavalier and were getting ready to move East for his health's sake.

I haven't talked yet about Ethan's "Big Red." His 1986 Ford Supercab pickup was his pride and joy. "Big Red" was definitely a big part of our lives and of our family. I'm happy to say that now, after three engine replacements, Big Red still is a part of the Miller family. Ethan's oldest son, Ron, has the big guy and plans to one day restore it. Big Red, Ethan and I had many adventures together in the last 20 years. Even though I was happy that Big Red was going to be able to stay in the family when Ethan passed away, it brought tears to my eyes to see Ron drive off down the road when he came to get the truck. Again, it was like having to say goodbye to my departed husband all over again.

I suppose we grow attached to our cars and trucks because they serve us so well and are just like members of our family. My dad was always fond of his line of VW vans he kept over the years. My youngest son has started collecting Porsches. I've heard you can tell someone's personality by the kind of car they drive. Many people actually name their cars like they do pets. I don't think there is anything wrong with that.

I am actually looking forward to getting to know "Miss Sube," and I have a feeling she and I are going to enjoy going places together and having some nice talks (she'll listen while I ramble). I have shared some of my best talks with my cars over the years. Ethan and I always had plenty of discussions while we were driving down the road.

By the way, if you are looking for a new relationship with a car in your area, there are plenty of ways to go about it. Your local newspaper is full of dealer ads as well as private parties selling their cars and trucks. I visited a few dealerships, but I also checked out AutoTrader on line, which makes it very convenient for locating the type of car you want, based on make, year, etc., and you can select cars over a specific distance from where you're located. That's how I found "Miss Sube."

There's also a Web site known as "Car Fax," where you can plug in a vehicle's ID number (VIN) and find out all the reports on it, such as who owned it and whether it's had any serious problems, been in an accident, etc. You have to pay for the specific information you want to see, but I think it gives you an advantage as a used-car buyer.

You can also go to Kelley Blue Book to find out what the normal trade-in value is for your current vehicle, or what the average price is on the vehicle you want to buy. When looking for a new car, it turns out best when you do your homework. That will ensure a long-standing, happy relationship with your next car.