Why One Arm is Darker than the Other

Since getting the 1972 Volkswagen FrankenBeetle out from the shop, a lot of things have changed. For one thing, I now reserve a column for ‘Gas’ in my expenses spreadsheet and as soon as BPI approves my application, I’ll have a bank account for car contingencies. I’ve also applied for a savings account with life insurance bundled in – you know, in case I de-limb myself in a horrible accident.

Aside of being partially ready for accidental dismemberment, other changes have happened. For one thing, as my mother so kindly pointed out, my left arm is two shades darker than the right one. What changes have happened?

1.     I am not ashamed to be seen in a car that seems to be held together by rust and cracking rubber. It is 41 years old, and by sheer force of will and mechanical miracles, it is running. After 3 and some years of being parked in various places, it rose back from the dead.

Ang Sakit, Ang Sakit-Sakit Na: The Valentine’s Day Sugarfree Playlist

Music plays a large role in love. Remember that scene in One More Chance where exes Popoy and Basha are stopped at a red light and a jeep pulls up next to them with speakers blaring out, “Nanghihinayang~ Nanghihinayang ang puso ko~!”? In real life, it isn’t quite as dramatic or as provident as that, though there are times when you kind of wish it worked like it did in the movies.

Now, bands like the Beatles and the Eraserheads have such extensive discographies that they have a song for every possible thing that could happen to you. Sugarfree, I’ve realized recently, seem to have condensed a boy-meets-girl-and-disaster-happens story in four albums. To check this theory, I listened to their songs and have made myself inadvertently miserable for the last four days. I can’t help it. It doesn’t matter if I’m not single, it doesn’t matter if I’m perfectly happy, and it doesn’t matter if I’m emotionally stable (I am, really, at least some of the time). It doesn’t matter. Sugarfree has collected all of your heartbreaks and distilled the mix into a misery concentrate.

This misery concentrate contains every heartrending experience you’ve ever had, from that time your crush called you dude to the night you once considered the end of the universe.

What Happened on the Way to Mini-Stop

Also, 'Never, Under Duress or Any Other Circumstances Including But Not Limited to Laser Eye Beams of Death Are You to Divulge Any of the Information Found Here to My Mother. Please.'

So last Tuesday, Remi and I went grocery shopping – because heck, supplies don’t magically reappear in the cupboards of hungry yuppies. I drove. Now, you need to know two things: One, Car-Car (the tentatively re-named 1972 Volkswagen Beetle) has been home from the mechanics’ shop since Saturday and in case you’re counting, Saturday to Tuesday = 3 days; and two, I’ve been practicing driving since Car-Car made it home, an aforementioned 3 days.

So anyway, Shopwise didn’t have Marlboro Lights. At least a third of the five people who read this blog can sympathize with this. I, with nary a stick, will have to find some other place from which to buy a pack of cancer sticks. The only place that hasn’t (yet) failed to sell me cancer stick packs is the Mini-Stop in Katipunan Avenue. I therefore took the turn right to Katipunan instead of left to go home.

Volkswagen Chronicles: IT’S ALIIIIIIIIVE!!!!

So about a month back, we made the decision to pull out the 1972 FrankenBeetle from Batangas from its then shop in Las Pinas to Kuya Nards’ shop in Buendia, Pasay. Towing a car, as I’ve heard, is a huge pain in the ass/wallet, but thankfully I got the services of Nino Ayroso and got the car from Point A to Point B without a hitch (and without blowing a fuse). I also got to save a lot since towing only cost me 2,000, a fraction of what the other towing services are extorting/charging.

Anyway, three mechanics started working on the Volks as soon as it landed in Kuya Nard’s shop. Right off the bat, they found many, MANY problems. There were a lot of wrong settings, the belt was too tight, and they suspect I have a hole somewhere in the engine that was causing the oil to leak. Everything was fixed, everything that was broken were replaced. They even gave my tires a new lease at life via a simple vulcanizing trip.

And thus after 3 years and four months, I am finally able to use the 1972 Volkswagen Beetle. It took 2 parking spots, 3 auto shops, and two towing stints, not to mention the blood, sweat, tears, and money (lots and lots and lots of money), but I finally got it where I want it. I’ve been test driving it around since Saturday, and it’s a thrill to be able to use it.

Every time I slide into the driver’s seat, I think, “They were right.” Tama nga sila. Remi, the folks at the VWCP.org forum, and the random people I’ve met who told me, “Tatakbo din yan.” After replacing the faulty ignition coil that caused our launch failure, it worked. I even had the mechanics break it in for me (i.e. use it for a week).

 Tatakbo din yan, tatakbo din yan.