- I was supposed to get my car running over the weekend. My car’s not running. It’s a point of mild frustration, but mostly just exhaustion. We slaved basically all weekend, and it probably would’ve felt worth it if I’d gotten to hear my car fire….but I didn’t.
I suppose I should write a little about the PSI before this blog heads any further away from it’s intended purpose! This is a story all about how….I got into cars and learned how to burn money as fast as (or faster than) I could make it!
Like most gearhead types, I came from a family that raced. My dad raced dirt track cars, and motocross as a kid, and karts, and Baja trucks in the SCORE series, and…and…and….
My mom drove my dad’s chase truck in Baja. So that’s pretty cool too! But like so many people, my parents divorced when I was a kid. My dad moved to Oregon (2 days drive from where I was), so I didn’t get to actually grow up racing personally.
My first car was a family car hand me down — my mom’s recently retired 1995 Ford Explorer. My sister (who obviously drove it after me) named it (her?) Dora. Dora the Explorer. I had some great times in that thing! It’s amazing how much fun just driving around with your friends is when you’re high school. It’s also amazing how a vehicle that should be reasonably reliable can just decide to not run when it felt like it. NO mechanic was able to trace the issue as long as I had it, but that thing would (seemingly make the willing choice to) leave me stranded. Often. Everywhere. On several occasions, I stopped for a Red Bull before work, and wound up sprinting the rest of the way to work (about a mile) with moments to spare.