Cars were not on the agenda today...

...We left for church this morning, I could tell that the car needed trans fluid. It is a trans fluid ADDICT these days. (or we aren't putting enough in. but it's REALLY difficult to figure this out, for some reason!) Get to church, all anxiety ridden over the dog gone car, Stan shuts the door ...

and the rear view mirror falls off. AGAIN. This happened right around my birthday in 2008, and prior to that in 2005. I realize that the mirror is a small, really fixable thing, but it was the straw the broke this camel's back. (I also broke down sobbing in the parking lot, while poor hubby had to stand there awkwardly and remind himself not to tell me that it was just a mirror)

It just feels like one thing after another. We COULD spend the money to fix the trans, but then what? At this rate, as much as I love my car, I half expect the engine to blow up on me, or something that holds my tires on to snap, or my break line to rot.

So long story short, I guess we're looking at new and used cars, which financially is not nearly as scary as I thought it would be, although it is a really scary proposition because it is so... adult. I still feel like this punk little kid who should pay her dues and be darn grateful that she has a car at all. The concept of a new car, and greater yet, that we could afford to look at new cars, is mind-boggling. It is not under the best of circumstances - I would MUCH rather have paid cash for a car when the time came - but in all honesty, car isn't going to last that long, and this would be a nice toe-warmer to the idea of forced saving money.

We were thinking of all the things that are SO GOOD about a new car, things I hadn't really considered until today, like...
- My parents wouldn't have to worry about me breaking down somewhere.
- My father-in-law wouldn't have to split his limited free-maintenance time on my car and Matt's.
- Matt wouldn't have to receive calls in the middle of the day with a sobbing wife that says "MY CAAAAR BROKE DOOOOOWN!" or worry about me every time I told him I was leaving to get groceries.
- I could actually look for a part-time job, something I cannot do now, because you just never know how Larry is going to be feeling.
- I could, well, have some semblance of PLANS, and do things (like make plans with friends) that I'm too scared to do now.
- I would be free-er from anxiety! No more near hyper-ventilating (yes, I'm serious) every time I consider driving somewhere, clutching the steering wheel for dear life, and otherwise muttering "oh, lord, please, just let me not break down..." the entire ride. every ride. Also, I would not have to fear things like oil changes.
- Oil changes would go back to $20-40, rather than the $170 they've been running me lately.
- Lately it's been getting harder to find things for my car. We had to special order an air filter last time. :(
- I could take a class or two! (See: plans, and job)
- If Mikenna had an emergency and I needed to get her to the vet, there's a GOOD chance that in the winter, I couldn't do that, what with my doors freezing shut and all. New car, not an issue.

Now, of course, this is all rather ... traumatic for me.
Because of who Larry is.

Larryboy
aka "Larry" and briefly "Stewie"
Larry is a 1991 mustang, originally bought my my Grandpa (whose nickname was Larry) brand new. I imagine it must have been something of a sight for a 77 year old man to buy a hot-rod mustang then. My Grandpa, and his son like him, take meticulous care of their cars. My Grandpa never let his cars go below 1/4 tank of gas. I can guarantee this is why Larry has run for 18 years. After my Grandpa died, at some point one of my aunts took custody of the car, and apparently it was my cousin's first car. Through some awesome series of events, Larry made the journey from NY to NJ in 2001, where he was my mom's car until I learned to drive in late 2003.It was my mom who named him Larryboy, not really after the veggie tales character, but because of my Grandpa. It was just catchy. He officially became mine in late 2004. I tried to call him "Stewie", but it never caught on. Larryboy made the journey with me out to MI in 2005, where he has remained.

The idea of giving up my grandpa's car (his last car), and thus to me, a piece of my grandparents, is really hard. (I'm sentimental, so multiply hard by about 100) But I like to think that he would have just gotten a kick out of his four year old youngest grandchild being the one to someday inherit the car, let alone that the car has lasted 18 years. Also, even as thrifty (remembered the great depression) and fixer-uppery as he was, I do believe my Grandpa would want me to be safe.

The only thing is ... what to do with Larry?
I'm sorely tempted when/if I find a dealer, if they'll take it, just to let them have it, even if it's for next to nothing.
I just ... don't want to think of him as ending up like this:
"Trade my hot rod for a crotch rocket"