8:30am: I take the Honda with 360,000 miles on it to the mechanic. I say, “It’s a junker, and I know it’s not going to last long, but I just want to make sure it’s ok to get me to LA.”

3:00pm: The mechanic calls me. She tells me all the things that are wrong with the car, including only 5-10% of the front breaks left, and a serious front axle issue. I say, “Hmm, well, thanks. I’ll probably drive it anyway.” She says, “Um, I would highly recommend you rent a car.” I think, “Hmm, maybe she’s right.”

4:00pm: I price out rental cars. It would cost me $400 to get a car that I can drive one way to LA, and it would be a car, not a van or station wagon (they only go roundtrip), meaning I couldn’t fit much of anything in it anyway. Oh, and the trucks are all rented, since this is a big moving weekend. I wonder if maybe the mechanic’s suggestion wasn’t so good.

5:00pm: After looking at all the over-priced options, I decide that fuggit, I’m just going to risk the car breaking down and drive it. I’ll be caravaning with Andreas, and worst case scenario is that the Honda poops out, and I ride down to LA with him, then drive the truck back to where the Honda crapped out and switch over the contents, and tow the Honda to a wrecking yard. A gamble, sure, but not the end of the world.

5:30pm: I pick up the car. The mechanic I talked to is busy with another customer, and I’m helped by a different mechanic. He grimaces and says “Uh, good luck?” as he hands me the receipt.

5:32pm: I walk out to the Honda and start it up. As I release the emergency brake, my original mechanic comes running out. “I need to talk to you about this car,” she says. “Look, I know you’re not going to get it fixed, and I think that’s smart. It’s too old to be worth investing $1500 into. But please — please — don’t drive this to Los Angeles.” She explains what’s wrong with the car, and how it’s not that it would stop running or poop out on me, but that I would lose steering control…and then my breaks would go out. She says, “This isn’t a motor issue, this is a breaks and steering issue. This is very very serious. This car is fine for low speed surface street driving, but I’m begging you not to drive it on the freeway. And especially not all the way to LA. Please.”

I almost start crying because this woman is so genuinely worried and sincere in her concern. She was pleading with me just not to drive the car, for my sake, not for her income’s sake.

5:40pm: I drive home. What to do? We have too much stuff to just fit in the truck. I decide, on a whim, to call UHaul to see if they have a trailer we can hook to the back of the truck. I know they won’t have trucks to rent, but maybe just a trailer. It’ll mean only having one car in LA, but better that than losing control of a car going 70 on a freeway. The UHaul guy says yeah sure he has trailers available — in fact, he’s got 10. “Will I need to pay extra for a trailer hitch?” I ask, remembering what Jane had once said. “Not with the size you want,” he says, and informs me that the total cost will be $145. Wow! Great.

5:45pm: But what to do about the Honda? All the charities I could donate it to are closed for the holiday weekend, and I don’t have time to deal with taking it to a junkyard. And what about the nice stereo it has? It’s worth almost $200. I call Ben & Kara, my favorite radical activist family (they have a set of gas masks, including a couple for 2-year-old Ari), and offer it to them, saying maybe they can have the nice stereo in exchange for dealing with taking the car to charity. Kara explains that Ben loves fixer-uppers and actually they’ve been needing a second car for trips to the grocery store, and that they and would love to fiddle with the Honda. I make her promise that they’ll never take it on the freeway. She agrees. And, in exchange for my giving it to them, Kara volunteers that Ben could take my stereo out of the Honda so that we can get it installed into the truck.

WHEW.

They don’t call me Director of Logistics for nuthin, muthafucka.

[Postscript]
9:00pm: After having dinner at The Canterbury, Andreas and I walk passed the auto repair place just as my mechanic is locking up and walking out to her truck. “Hey!” I yell, running over. “I just wanted to let you know that I figured out a way to get to LA without the car! I’m renting a trailer to hook up to the truck, and giving the car to some friends who like fixer uppers. I told them not to take it on the freeway, and said that I could even tell them all about what’s wrong with it. I told them, ‘I just spent $70 today so that you can know exactly what’s broken.’ I just wanted to say thanks! I mean, you might have saved my life!”

“That’s what you spent the 70 bucks for,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied. “70 bucks for my life. I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

“Definitely,” she smiled.