I drive a 2011 Cadillac CTS V-6 , 3.6 L. She is raven black with ecru leather interior, she has a little over 100,000 miles on her, and she flat moves — in and out, over and under, around and through. I have driven this car through floods and hurricanes, hoar frost and ice storms, light snow and mud rain, debris-hurling winds and fog so dense that I couldn’t see the car in front of me. I have gone from zero to 60 in a few seconds and passed 18 wheelers pushing 100 mph. I have driven long miles in several states and long, hard miles all over Texas, especially through fracking country. This vehicle has saved my life more than once and I trust her implicitly. 

     In short, I love this car. I call her “Sista” because she has been, for 13 years now, my only companion, my sibling as it were, driving those hard miles back and forth to my hometown of Victoria to take care of my aging Mother. Truthfully, memories both good and bad of my retirement years here in Texas are heavily associated with this vehicle and, while I don’t generally form an emotional attachment to a physical object, I have to admit a real affection for “Sista.” I have taken good care of her and she has taken good care of me in return.

     So it was that a few weeks ago I found myself dismayed by the sounds she was suddenly making: was it arthritis? In spite of her good looks, was she suddenly showing her age? Part of it might have been the cold weather, as it often is with arthritis of any sort, but then, when it got warmer, the noises didn’t abate. So I called up my Cadillac service manager (with whom I have a long and steady relationship) and complained: “My car sounds like I’m driving an old bed with a mattress whose springs have sprung. Maybe we need a lube job or some shock absorbers?”

     I took Sista in for an evaluation. She was there for diagnostics for a couple days before my service manager got back to me. Yes, no surprise that she was a little creaky because all the struts, shocks, links, control arms, stabilizers, even the sway bar (whatever that is) — all original to the car—  needed to be replaced. And oh yes, while we were at it, there was the matter of the 100,000 mile routine maintenance that was now a bit overdue — fluids, filters, spark plugs, disks, wiper blades, etc. And I needed an oil change. 

     I was sitting down at my desk when he called, and it was a good thing because then I didn’t have far to fall when he gave me the estimate for all this: a tad under $8,500! While I was exclaiming in shock and starting to hyperventilate, he was quick to add that I didn’t have to do everything at once. The routine maintenance should be done now, but I could tackle the parts replacements bit by bit over a few months. “The creaks and groans may bother you, but the car isn’t going to fall apart or leave you stranded anywhere because it needs shock absorbers,” he assured me.

     I guess it was my heavy breathing and sudden silence that prompted him to add, “Why don’t you think about this and call me back when you decide what you want to do?”  

     Think about it indeed, and talk about it. I vacillated back and forth all day long. I called him back with questions, then got a valuation of my car, then called back with an initial go ahead, then called again to withdraw it. Everyone in the discussion, the service manager, my husband, and my son, was surprised at my indecision because they all realize how much I love Sista and they all know that she easily has another 100,000 miles or more ahead of her. But still …

     Lest you think this is all an ado about nothing, let me give you some backstory. I have been driving a Cadillac for 40 years. With the exception of my very first one, they have all been black with a light interior and a big engine. I drove Eldorados until they quit making them, and then I reluctantly moved into a V-6 when I bought the CTS. I have been driving since I was 13 years old (with a learner’s permit allowed in Texas at the time), and have always driven GM cars — first Pontiacs and then Oldsmobiles before Cadillac. And, lest you think I am some road-raging, gas-guzzling, speed demon, I hasten to add that I have never gotten a ticket and I have never, thank god, had a major accident. But I do insist on a car that will get out of its own way.

     These cars drive the way I drive and they possess the speed and the agility to drive defensively in the 16 lane freeways and 85 mph speed limits of Texas. They make me a confident driver and, at this point in my life, I don’t plan to change horses in the home stretch. But let me tell you that I was NOT ready to buy a new car right now. First of all, I hate buying cars: the whole “let me talk to my manager” routine, along with the test driving and the yada-yada-yada of negotiating price and then the rigamarole of financing. Even when you know what you want, it’s a hassle. Years ago, I used to just call up my Cadillac salesman at the local dealership and say that I wanted “another one.” But of course, these days post-Covid and with SUVs and EVs dominating the market, there is not likely “another one” to be had. 

     But back to Sista. I decided to get the oil changed and then to go pick her up and bring her home. Even then, with the cost of the diagnostic and the oil, I had a tab of just over $300. And that made me think about this whole situation. Even if I do all the work and Sista is “as good as new” for a while, there will inevitably be more repairs and maintenance along the way. Sure I love her and she can be on the road for another 100,000 miles or more, but can I?  How much more will I spend on upkeep in the coming years? And then, will I find myself approaching 80 years of age and having to buy a new car for however long I might be driving after that. Does any of this make sense?

     So now, a simple car repair has become an existential dilemma, forcing me to think about the future and to face the fact that whatever I decide and if I buy a new car, it is likely to be my last. I’m going to have to mull this over with Sista. Stay tuned.