During the early stages of planning for the NZ trip, the question of how we were going to get around was addressed. It soon became clear that we would need cars, and hiring two cars was the obvious choice for 8 people… But I had something grander in mind. What if we could transport ourselves around the most interesting and remote parts of New Zealand for no cost? Or, even better, what if we could actually make a profit from our transportation? What if… we bought a car?
Weirdly, no one else was keen to organise this so I became responsible for organising the transport of Jenny, Jeffrey, Stephen and myself. A quick glance at the cost of rental cars and some encouragement from James were enough to convince me that this was a fantastic idea. Little did I know that this plan would eventually consume two and a half weeks of my life.
I kept an eye on the various car sales facebook groups and around the end of October I stumbled across a rare beauty; the ’97 Subaru Forester of my dreams. I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, things started off tentatively… a few messages with the owner… a little price negotiation… but soon I found myself in Wanaka and with the first test drive I was in the throes of passion. She handled beautifully; sure the front grille was missing, the tires were bald, the passenger window didn’t roll up, and I needed to pay for a roadworthy inspection (Warrant of Fitness or WoF), but this car and I had a bond – I could rely on her. She was mine for just $800.
Three days later I came to pick her up for the WoF and she didn’t start. Well shit. The battery was completely dead and the engine wasn’t even turning over. In addition, Wanaka was in the midst of a flooding event with record amounts of rain and a significant amount had come in the open passenger window despite my best efforts to cover it up. This marked the beginning of the souring of our relationship.
Reasoning that I wouldn’t want the battery to die in a more remote location, I bit the bullet and bought a new one. $200 later I was on my way to the mechanic.
She didn’t pass the inspection. The list of things to fix included a stack, two new tires and a few other odds and ends; all up it would be $700. Perhaps this wasn’t the best decision after all. I began to look at my Forester less as a lover and more as a swindler, seeking to suck life’s sweetness out of this trip.
Of perhaps greater concern than the cost was the time. I called all 10 mechanics in town and all were booked out for days – the soonest I could get my car booked in was in 4 days time. That was getting close to when Jenny, Jeffrey and Stephen were expecting me to pick them up with a functional car, and I was somewhat concerned. And that bloody window still wasn’t fixed.
Frustrated with the slow pace of business in Wanaka, I decided to fix the window myself. How hard could it be, really? I watched some youtube clips and spent $50 on the tools I needed, plus a tarp to shelter me from the rain.
The issue with the window was that the electric motor was no longer working, and the window was stuck in the wound down position. All I wanted to do was manually move the window to the wound up position so it could be stuck there. Can’t be that hard right? Well yes… yes it can. And although I was ultimately successful, the process took an entire day of getting slapped around by the car. I had to remove the inside door cover, de-attach the glass from the window regulator and prop it up with a stick, semi-detach the window regulator from the door, remove the motor and then reattach everything – all while working blind inside the 15cm door cavity. I left the window motor detached from the switch so no unwitting passenger would ever put that window down again.
The day I spent wrestling with the car’s window was perhaps one of our lowest points; after that things started to look up. I finally got a WoF and drove to Queenstown to meet the others. Everything would be smooth sailing from here. Well, not quite. My devious lover turned tormentor had one or two more tricks up her sleeve. I was concerned throughout the trip as she occasionally flashed me her check engine light, and the sporadic smell of burning oil filled me with dread rather than lust. Her final efforts involved some crossed wires that blew the fuse for the dash. This added an element of excitement to our night-time driving experiences since I could no longer see the speedometer.
At long last it came time to sell this rolling hot mess. Needless to say my advertisement detailed what an excellent car she was and for $1000 I found a buyer. As I walked away from the carpark where I had handed over the key, cash in hand, a sense of freedom overcame me. I was no longer tethered to this steel beast who was seemingly intent on gobbling all my dollars. For the rest of my time in New Zealand I could go where I wanted and do what I pleased. Cars are overrated. Materialism is stupid. In any case I would soon be flying back to Sydney… where I was about to get a new car. Shit.