Curtains for Bonny

Bonny, my `94 Pontiac Bonneville, finally kicked the bucket yesterday on my drive home. I’ve written about her recently – about an accident for which I still have not secured any funds for due to a State Patrol officer’s form-filling failure (damn you!). She was unable to deliver me home on this last trip; she instead choked on her last gulp of tap water, siphoned her last gallon of gasolene, puffed her last breath of life-giving smoke, and slung an otherwise content rod into proverbial ‘hell.’ You see, these last remaining miles have been riddled with problems. The water pump leaked like a sieve – I had long-ago given up on coolant and instead just continued to add a gallon or more of water to the system at every start. Ever since I had the gas pump replaced, Bonny has guzzled her fuel like a frat-boy on Spring Break. That, and if I got down to a 1/4 tank, I was unlikely to start the car again. There have also been these new ‘sounds’ popping up on a daily basis. The latest noise arrived the day before her departure and gave cause to believe that the rear bearings in one wheel were shot. I can add that to the opposite wheel in the front whose bearings were already shot. Just before the incident, some new ‘gurgling’ sounds began in the bowels of the engine. I coaxed and prodded as the oil pressure slowly dropped to red-line levels. When smoke smelling of burning oil came from under the hood, I knew that I should prepare myself for the end. I was fortunate enough to have made it to a relatively unused neighborhood at which to quiet the racket. Just as I neared a subdivision, the oil pressure bottomed-out and the engine shut itself off. So brave was she that in her dying moments the engine made futile, wheezing attempts at continuing to my demands. I, the hard-loving slave-driver; she, the (now ugly) wreck of road hard machinery. She is no longer in pain.

1 comment

  1. Sorry to hear about the demise of your beater. May she RIP. While you are car shopping, you need to check out the 1962 Caddy for sale at the shady motel/car lot on hwy 53 on your way home. It is calling for an “Animal House” Deathmobile makeover and it could be all yours. You could set up an entire playroom for Balthazar in the back seat.

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