After 17 years, 262,000 miles and countless memories, good-bye
Posted: Friday, April 13, 2007
In hindsight, it deserved a nickname.
When you've been reliably taken to work daily, transported on your honeymoon and returned from the hospital with your first-born, that's something. And when a car not only does that, but churns out 262,618 miles, a cool name is more than earned.
Something like Intrepid -- oops, that's a Dodge model. Or TrailBlazer or Achieva -- except they're already taken. Maybe Wilbur.
What I've had for the last 17 years is a rare 1989 Honda Civic model, a Wagovan. The name is a combo of a wagon and van (a name that was the source of derision for my youngest brother's friends), although it really was just a small station wagon. It is days away from retirement after taking me, wife Jamie and our girls on trip after trip after trip after being purchased in August 1990.
Bought for $7,700, the blue '89 Honda came into my life after I wrecked my 1985 Honda Accord. In the Sioux Falls dealership, I heard the previous owner of one year had put 25,000 miles on it. I recall thinking that was a lot for one year, and hoped the Wagovan wouldn't be a lemon.
It seemed destined to be owned by me -- the VIN number began with JHMEY, sound that out and think of my wife's name. I never once regretted buying the wagon, and it has been paid off since August 1994. That's a loooong time without a car payment.
Lately, I'd said it was worth about $500 -- and half that value was the compact disc player installed in 1997. But the Wagovan never failed to start. Not once, over 200 months.
It was so utterly reliable, including three days in January 1994 when it got down to 25-below zero, in spite of not being in a garage. Turn the key, hear the engine start, put the stick shift in reverse, head out.
Regular oil changes at 3,000-mile intervals probably helped the Wagovan's longevity, 67 oil changes all told. We went through eight mufflers and five sets of tires. I wrote them all down. Loren Koch in Kingsley and Mark Zenk in Sioux City extended the life of the car with timely repairs, none of which broke the bank.
But the Wagovan definitely got worse for the wear.
By 1999, a mere 10 years after leaving the factory, the car was rusting to the point where we considered replacing the back quarter panel. By this past winter that didn't matter, it was so rusted -- both sides, the rear, creeping like ivy toward the roof -- that when salt and brine were spewed all over the car, I didn't bother to wash it.
For the last four years, once raised, the hatchback wouldn't stay open, often crashing down on a head or shoulder. The driver's pulldown visor fell off two years ago. The rear window wiper dropped off I can't remember how long ago. No one but me knew where to tap the front hood in order to get it raised. The left rear door wouldn't come open unless you leaned a hip into just the right part of the door while pulling it open.
The four-cylinder engine didn't have much power, and westbound up the largest hill on U.S. 20 on a lot of trips from Kingsley or Moville to Sioux City, the Wagovan would invariably drop down to 43 mph, then get passed by nearly every vehicle from Holstein on west.
You might think I'm tickled to be ridding myself of this ride. You'd be wrong.
Some of my favorite memories happened in the car -- like the 37-day, 15-state, 7,400-mile honeymoon trip in summer 1993, attendance at and many jaunts back to the University of Northern Iowa, a 1996 trip to Camden Yards and the Atlanta Summer Olympics with my youngest brother, and shuttling our oldest daughter to preschool, transitional kindergarten and now kindergarten. We drove it with mountain bikes on the roof bike rack frequently to Okoboji, and just two weekends ago, it took me through the Loess Hills in following presidential candidate Barack Obama from Onawa to Denison and back to Sioux City.
In December, after we twice spent $250 in three weeks on repairs, my parents announced they would hand down their current car to us in 2007. Jamie was enthused, but I balked. In spite of the $500 in repairs, I didn't want to give up, the plan to run the Wagovan until August 2009 seemed reachable.
With the birth of our first daughter in August 2000 and the arrival of a second girl in 2003, we'd embarked on a "nine-year plan": to live on essentially one income until August 2009, when both girls would be in school and Jamie could return to full-time work, providing income to take on a car payment. Until then, the Wagovan would have to reach the 20-year mark.
Achievement of that plan now seems so close. Like colleague Jesse Claeys said, with this much time and care devoted to the stalwart '89, run it until it drops. That's my take, but I got outvoted. I don't live in the White House, I'm not The Decider.
And once the compact disc player was stolen out of the Wagovan in early March while we went to the "Charlotte's Web" movie downtown (listening to music is the best part of driving), my mind went down the path of a future without it. Although I feel the car ultimately could last another 28 months and probably turn over 300,000 miles, why spend a couple hundred dollars for another CD player when it might die?
I feel like I'm giving up on the Honda, in spite of the fact that it's never abandoned me. Shame on me. Wilbur was destined for the smokehouse, but Charlotte didn't give up on him.
By the way, our "new" car is a 1998 from my parents. With 272,000 miles.
Bret Hayworth is the Journal's political reporter, who no longer will have to suffer the indignity of driving up to presidential candidate campaign events and parking next to the CNN truck with his rusted ride. He can be reached at brethayworth@siouxcityjournal.com
When you've been reliably taken to work daily, transported on your honeymoon and returned from the hospital with your first-born, that's something. And when a car not only does that, but churns out 262,618 miles, a cool name is more than earned.
Something like Intrepid -- oops, that's a Dodge model. Or TrailBlazer or Achieva -- except they're already taken. Maybe Wilbur.
What I've had for the last 17 years is a rare 1989 Honda Civic model, a Wagovan. The name is a combo of a wagon and van (a name that was the source of derision for my youngest brother's friends), although it really was just a small station wagon. It is days away from retirement after taking me, wife Jamie and our girls on trip after trip after trip after being purchased in August 1990.
Bought for $7,700, the blue '89 Honda came into my life after I wrecked my 1985 Honda Accord. In the Sioux Falls dealership, I heard the previous owner of one year had put 25,000 miles on it. I recall thinking that was a lot for one year, and hoped the Wagovan wouldn't be a lemon.
It seemed destined to be owned by me -- the VIN number began with JHMEY, sound that out and think of my wife's name. I never once regretted buying the wagon, and it has been paid off since August 1994. That's a loooong time without a car payment.
Lately, I'd said it was worth about $500 -- and half that value was the compact disc player installed in 1997. But the Wagovan never failed to start. Not once, over 200 months.
It was so utterly reliable, including three days in January 1994 when it got down to 25-below zero, in spite of not being in a garage. Turn the key, hear the engine start, put the stick shift in reverse, head out.
Regular oil changes at 3,000-mile intervals probably helped the Wagovan's longevity, 67 oil changes all told. We went through eight mufflers and five sets of tires. I wrote them all down. Loren Koch in Kingsley and Mark Zenk in Sioux City extended the life of the car with timely repairs, none of which broke the bank.
But the Wagovan definitely got worse for the wear.
By 1999, a mere 10 years after leaving the factory, the car was rusting to the point where we considered replacing the back quarter panel. By this past winter that didn't matter, it was so rusted -- both sides, the rear, creeping like ivy toward the roof -- that when salt and brine were spewed all over the car, I didn't bother to wash it.
For the last four years, once raised, the hatchback wouldn't stay open, often crashing down on a head or shoulder. The driver's pulldown visor fell off two years ago. The rear window wiper dropped off I can't remember how long ago. No one but me knew where to tap the front hood in order to get it raised. The left rear door wouldn't come open unless you leaned a hip into just the right part of the door while pulling it open.
The four-cylinder engine didn't have much power, and westbound up the largest hill on U.S. 20 on a lot of trips from Kingsley or Moville to Sioux City, the Wagovan would invariably drop down to 43 mph, then get passed by nearly every vehicle from Holstein on west.
You might think I'm tickled to be ridding myself of this ride. You'd be wrong.
Some of my favorite memories happened in the car -- like the 37-day, 15-state, 7,400-mile honeymoon trip in summer 1993, attendance at and many jaunts back to the University of Northern Iowa, a 1996 trip to Camden Yards and the Atlanta Summer Olympics with my youngest brother, and shuttling our oldest daughter to preschool, transitional kindergarten and now kindergarten. We drove it with mountain bikes on the roof bike rack frequently to Okoboji, and just two weekends ago, it took me through the Loess Hills in following presidential candidate Barack Obama from Onawa to Denison and back to Sioux City.
In December, after we twice spent $250 in three weeks on repairs, my parents announced they would hand down their current car to us in 2007. Jamie was enthused, but I balked. In spite of the $500 in repairs, I didn't want to give up, the plan to run the Wagovan until August 2009 seemed reachable.
With the birth of our first daughter in August 2000 and the arrival of a second girl in 2003, we'd embarked on a "nine-year plan": to live on essentially one income until August 2009, when both girls would be in school and Jamie could return to full-time work, providing income to take on a car payment. Until then, the Wagovan would have to reach the 20-year mark.
Achievement of that plan now seems so close. Like colleague Jesse Claeys said, with this much time and care devoted to the stalwart '89, run it until it drops. That's my take, but I got outvoted. I don't live in the White House, I'm not The Decider.
And once the compact disc player was stolen out of the Wagovan in early March while we went to the "Charlotte's Web" movie downtown (listening to music is the best part of driving), my mind went down the path of a future without it. Although I feel the car ultimately could last another 28 months and probably turn over 300,000 miles, why spend a couple hundred dollars for another CD player when it might die?
I feel like I'm giving up on the Honda, in spite of the fact that it's never abandoned me. Shame on me. Wilbur was destined for the smokehouse, but Charlotte didn't give up on him.
By the way, our "new" car is a 1998 from my parents. With 272,000 miles.
Bret Hayworth is the Journal's political reporter, who no longer will have to suffer the indignity of driving up to presidential candidate campaign events and parking next to the CNN truck with his rusted ride. He can be reached at brethayworth@siouxcityjournal.com
Story Comments
Read More and Post Comments 5 comment(s)
Please note: The following are comments from readers. In no way do they represent the views of The Sioux City Journal or Lee Enterprises. We will not edit or alter your comments, but we do reserve the right to not post or to remove comments that violate our code of conduct. No comment may contain potentially libelous statements; obscene, explicit or racist language; personal attacks, insults or threats. Terms of Service
Ben Townsend wrote on Apr 14, 2007 8:22 AM:
unimpressed wrote on Apr 14, 2007 12:35 AM:
lady49 wrote on Apr 13, 2007 4:46 PM:
Ben Townsend wrote on Apr 13, 2007 12:27 PM:
bill wrote on Apr 13, 2007 11:05 AM: