Ode to the Malibu

So I sold the 1972 Malibu.  Not sure why I did that, other than how many lightly used assets can a guy have?  I didn’t use it much, and really didn’t see a time in the future when that would change.  Even road trips aren’t a go to since I have a Class B travel van, also lightly used.

It is a fine car - perfectly suited to me - a non-motor head, a non-car guy - a car that you turned the key and it started and ran well.  A car you weren’t afraid to take out a drive.  Good looking design, white interior, white convertible top, big motor, smooth ride.

It had an old-school cigarette lighter that Lucas and his friends loved heating up and touching.  It had a motorized top that even after 6 years I couldn’t remember if the ‘up’ direction on the switch meant putting the top ‘up’ (closed) or ‘up’ (as in open).  Did ‘down’ mean closed, or did ‘down’ mean open.  

The large seats were incredibly comfortable, like a couch.  You could ride all day with little in the way of stiffness.  I sit in my 2018 Mercedes 400 coupe (a neat 2 door that seats 4 easily inside) for 45 minutes and start to ache and pain.

The got smiles and thumbs ups wherever I went, and everyone wanted to talk about the car.  Which presented a few problems: 1, I don’t really like talking to people, especially spontaneously, and 2, a lot of the men wanted to talk about the car, ‘what’s under the hood’, and a lot of other car talk which 1, I no nothing about, and 2, have zero interest in.

So other than looking really good in the car, and enjoying driving the old machine, I was a poor fit for a classic car.  It was fun to drive, a 1972, with only seatbelts that went around your waist - meaning if you were ever in an accident the physics of it would snap your head right into the steering wheel.  Driving that car was not like a modern car where you could break too fast, wait too long to navigate a corner, etc…. You had to dance with her, respect her, drive with true respect for driving basics and fundamentals.  The margin for makeup was much less than in a new car with disc brakes and tight steering.

I took on 2 long trips - one, a 3000 mile odyssey from NE PA, through PA to Pittsburgh, over to Ohio to the football hall of fame, up to Detroit, cross over to Canada and by a warm darkening summer evening rode the coast of Lake Huron north for a few hours before stopping for the night, playing car games like one where you go through the alphabet by what letters you can find on road signs, license plates and the like.  Getting back at it in the morning heading to Killarney, which is the tip of Huron, on a spit, and that brings a funny story to mind.  Searching for information about Killarney prior to taking off, I was enchanted by green grassy knolly similarities of Ireland, and at some point late in the game realized I was actually looking at pictures of Killarney Ireland and not Killarney Canada.

From XXX we drove across Canada to Toronto, easing in to town like Ocean’s Eleven characters, then after a few days, down into Buffalo and across NY and PA back home.  She rode like a dream, purred like a kitten. We left the large spare tire at home since we needed room in the trunk.

I left the headlights on a few times since the only way they went off was to push in the button.  The high beams was a button you tapped with your left foot.  And the gas tank filler was underneath the license plate, which was truly a funny story the first time I needed gas, and stood there bewildered trying to figure out how to fill it up, going so far as to look in the glove compartment, under the hood with the engine and a bunch of other places.  Of course I couldn’t ask anyone, since that would be a humiliation, so I grabbed a rag or t-shirt or something and pretended to wipe down the finish as I nonchalantly scoured the vehicle for the gas cap.

The fuel gauge was never accurate, and went wildly up and down with the acceleration, and when it half full, it would decline into ‘empty’ with hard to predict steadiness.

Lulu and I also took it on a long trip down through Virginia, to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and back home. Man and dog, with a lot of envious smiles from men my age.

So she’s gone.  You can’t really just keep accumulating lightly used assets.  I mean, I guess you can, but that’s not really my game.  I’ve toyed around with selling it for a year or two.  With Lucas turning 16 and ‘needing’ a car, something really had to give, and in this situation, it was the 1972 Malibu, a sweet car if there ever was one. Gained a St Pete's top floor condo, a 2022 Hyundai Kona for Lucas, and lost a Malibu.

And, to connect a few recent blog posts, back in 2015 I thought it was a good idea to have the company buy the car initially, and use it as a marketing and PR tool/vehicle, and get the benefit of the maintenance expenses and depreciation. And then when I went and sold it (to the first guy who looked at it), I now owe have the sales price in taxes since it's cost basis is zero, having taken the tax benefits in years prior.