I Miss Driving
Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,
I really should catch some sleep before the "Arts Week" Poster Party, but, I really want to get this off my chest. I miss driving. More importantly I miss driving MY van. As fun as Translink can be, I don't enjoy not being able to drive for the sake of driving and I don't enjoy walking 2-3 hour long treks home because there is no more transit, I can't afford a cab, and my family has sold me out yet again. Sure my friends always tell me that I'm crazy for doing so and that I should have asked them for a ride, but, I just don't like being a burden. Also, when this scenario is reversed, I always offer and give rides. I guess I watched too many Sgt. Slaughter episodes of G.I. Joe and took the whole "We all go home, or nobody goes home" to heart. I've driven as far as Surrey and North Delta to make sure someone got home in one piece. I tend to go out of my way for people in general. Before my brother drove, I pretty much drove him everywhere when I wasn't working or in class. Since he was on the basketball team, I became a pseudo-parent/chaperone.
Now that he has a license (only an "N" due to the myriad of B.C. loop holes), it is now unthinkable that he (my brother) should "gasp" take transit anywhere, let alone to Langara College. Oh my, it's a whopping 2 busses! I used to attend Langara and I had to take the bus. Why is it too good for him and not me? I remember tearing my MCL, walking around in crutches, and still taking the bus to and from Langara College.
I know the van is really the family's van and that it was given to me only because it was cheaper for my dad, but, for a brief period of time I owned the vehicle. I paid for the insurance, gas, and repairs. However, within the span of a month my flawless driving record and the discounted insurance premiums that came with it were lost when my brother was a part of 2 accidents. My father then started paying the insurance for the van again. According to legal documentation the van was mine, but, the reality was that it was not. But I still paid for all the gas, maintenance, and repairs.
The more my brother drove, the less I did. However, the amount of $$$ I spent for the upkeep of the van steadily increased. One would hope that now that he drives the van primarily, he could pick me up or drop me off within the city limits of Vancouver. Apparently, that became too inconvenient for him. It got to the point where I was paying over $100 a week on gas alone, but, could not get a measly 15-20 minute drive to or from work.
So how did I respond? I stopped paying for the van. It was not mine in the first place. Plus I needed the money for tuition, books, and bus fare.
Now under the care of my brother, the van is slowly falling apart. The radio no longer works. Neither do the interior lights. I smell the scent of something burning through the air vents, probably originating from underneath the hood. The engine sputters. There is a sound that Vanessa described as reminiscent of a hockey card flapping against bicycle spokes. The shotgun seat is broken because my brother's 7 foot tall teammate sat in it and is now being propped up by a piece of lumber (the seat that is, not the my brother's teammate). And there is a gash on the passenger side because my brother misjudged the distance between him and a tree or whatever it was, also he said it was a scratch and that all he needed was some primer. It was gash and by no means a scratch.
When I drove the van I thought I finally replaced enough of the parts that my worries would be at a minimum. But, now all my work was for naught. This vehicle that I once drove to Whistler, Cloverdale, Langley, Abbotsford, Tsawassen, Seattle, Spokane, and beyond in semi-confidence is no more. I'm surprised if I can make it to and from UBC in the thing now.
On that fateful day when the Astrovan dies, I will go through plenty of emotions. The majority of which will go towards suppressing the urge to inflict bodily harm to my brother or worse. Other than that it will be a loss of a link to a past where I remember being happy and had family who didn't sell me out.
Okay who wants to make some posters?
End Transmission.
I really should catch some sleep before the "Arts Week" Poster Party, but, I really want to get this off my chest. I miss driving. More importantly I miss driving MY van. As fun as Translink can be, I don't enjoy not being able to drive for the sake of driving and I don't enjoy walking 2-3 hour long treks home because there is no more transit, I can't afford a cab, and my family has sold me out yet again. Sure my friends always tell me that I'm crazy for doing so and that I should have asked them for a ride, but, I just don't like being a burden. Also, when this scenario is reversed, I always offer and give rides. I guess I watched too many Sgt. Slaughter episodes of G.I. Joe and took the whole "We all go home, or nobody goes home" to heart. I've driven as far as Surrey and North Delta to make sure someone got home in one piece. I tend to go out of my way for people in general. Before my brother drove, I pretty much drove him everywhere when I wasn't working or in class. Since he was on the basketball team, I became a pseudo-parent/chaperone.
Now that he has a license (only an "N" due to the myriad of B.C. loop holes), it is now unthinkable that he (my brother) should "gasp" take transit anywhere, let alone to Langara College. Oh my, it's a whopping 2 busses! I used to attend Langara and I had to take the bus. Why is it too good for him and not me? I remember tearing my MCL, walking around in crutches, and still taking the bus to and from Langara College.
I know the van is really the family's van and that it was given to me only because it was cheaper for my dad, but, for a brief period of time I owned the vehicle. I paid for the insurance, gas, and repairs. However, within the span of a month my flawless driving record and the discounted insurance premiums that came with it were lost when my brother was a part of 2 accidents. My father then started paying the insurance for the van again. According to legal documentation the van was mine, but, the reality was that it was not. But I still paid for all the gas, maintenance, and repairs.
The more my brother drove, the less I did. However, the amount of $$$ I spent for the upkeep of the van steadily increased. One would hope that now that he drives the van primarily, he could pick me up or drop me off within the city limits of Vancouver. Apparently, that became too inconvenient for him. It got to the point where I was paying over $100 a week on gas alone, but, could not get a measly 15-20 minute drive to or from work.
So how did I respond? I stopped paying for the van. It was not mine in the first place. Plus I needed the money for tuition, books, and bus fare.
Now under the care of my brother, the van is slowly falling apart. The radio no longer works. Neither do the interior lights. I smell the scent of something burning through the air vents, probably originating from underneath the hood. The engine sputters. There is a sound that Vanessa described as reminiscent of a hockey card flapping against bicycle spokes. The shotgun seat is broken because my brother's 7 foot tall teammate sat in it and is now being propped up by a piece of lumber (the seat that is, not the my brother's teammate). And there is a gash on the passenger side because my brother misjudged the distance between him and a tree or whatever it was, also he said it was a scratch and that all he needed was some primer. It was gash and by no means a scratch.
When I drove the van I thought I finally replaced enough of the parts that my worries would be at a minimum. But, now all my work was for naught. This vehicle that I once drove to Whistler, Cloverdale, Langley, Abbotsford, Tsawassen, Seattle, Spokane, and beyond in semi-confidence is no more. I'm surprised if I can make it to and from UBC in the thing now.
On that fateful day when the Astrovan dies, I will go through plenty of emotions. The majority of which will go towards suppressing the urge to inflict bodily harm to my brother or worse. Other than that it will be a loss of a link to a past where I remember being happy and had family who didn't sell me out.
Okay who wants to make some posters?
End Transmission.
posted by Shockah Karl at 5:30 a.m.
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