Is it the end of the road for Whitey?

This morning, at the insane hour at 4 AM (the hour in which Steve leaves for work) I helped him move our dead car (a 96 Kia Sephia) out of the middle of the road in front of our house, and guide it down to the bottom of our circle where it could rest in peace beside the island in the center thereof.

The task was not as easy as it sounds. First of all, I was having a difficult time waking up. Steve had me behind the wheel, steering, while he was at the bumper, simultaneously pushing, and he kept yelling orders like, "Turn all the way to the left!" My drowsy brain could not easily process any of his orders. Left? Which way is that? After a moment of intense focus I was able to realize I had been turning to the right. There were several similar orders, all getting similar results. I had the window rolled down so that I could respond with the occasional "What?" "Huh?" or "I don't even understand what the heck you are talking about!" without even the smallest consideration of our sleeping neighbors.

When the task was accomplished, Steve took off in my sister's car. (She and her husband are still sleeping peacefully in our basement and are unaware that they will have to remain carless today--but somehow I think they will understand. Their car "Rhonda the Honda" just recently replaced "Lois". Lois had much experience in multiple resuscitations and jump-startings, and she, too, one day came to an untimely and inconvenient end.)

Steve would have just taken our mini-van to work. But last night as we were driving to the park, it started smoking. We managed to pull back into our driveway, as Steve muttered, "Don't worry. You should be able to get the kids to school and back tomorrow. I think." Then he got out of the car and slammed the door shut, as he grumbled, "I just put new tires on this car."

I am a little panicky. We can't replace BOTH cars. But both have been on their last leg for the past three years, and we have managed to keep them hanging on while enjoying the perks. Perks? you may ask. Well, as it is 5 AM, and I could not go back to sleep, I have come up with a short list of the perks of owning the two pieces of junk that are taking space in our garage (and...um...the bottom of our circle):

1. Both vehicles have been paid for, which has enabled us to buy things like, say, food and running water.

2. We never have to worry about their being stolen. In fact, I worry more about someone taking off with the car seats inside (because they are worth more than the vehicles themselves).

3. We have had all sorts of exciting adventures as they have begun their decline. For example, our van has has had no air-conditioning for a couple of years. There is a hole somewhere leaking coolant, and we keep taking it to various service stations to fill it up with a dyed coolant, with the intent that we will bring it back within a week so they can find the source of the leak and fix it. But we are too cheap to come back. The coolant lasts a good month before it empties all the way out, and we figure if we just refill it 3 times in a summer at hundred dollars a pop, we can save the $1500 it would cost to replace the AC. The adventure, you ask? It lies in alternating the service stations, so they don't catch on to us.

The question that all adults must ask themselves at some time is this: At what point do you abandon your car? At what point to you say "It is not worth it to sink another penny into the money-sucking hole!"

Could this be THAT time for Whitey (our Sephia)...or perhaps Speedy (the kids' name for the van)? Or (gulp) both?