When we bought our 1997 Toyota Camry, it was a couple of years old and had 32,000 miles on it. I was attracted by the car’s low, sleek look which was perfectly accented by the rear spoiler. I never thought the subsequent changes in the Camry’s style were improvements; they seemed blocky and unappealing. Even today, that ’90’s body style continues to be one of my favorites of all times, particularly for a four-door sedan.

Style issues aside, I did a good job of keeping the engine maintained and a fair job of keeping the car clean, managing at least one coat of wax most summers. As the years and miles added up, we continued to enjoy the smooth ride, the nice style and the extreme reliability. In eleven years and over two hundred thousand miles, the car never broke down, never left us stranded.

There were occasional needs for minor repairs and the problem with the interior trim that the Toyota dealer refused to acknowledge as a manufacturing problem and which I never pursued “farther up the chain.” There was an obvious incompatibility between the adhesive and the coloring; within two years the faux wood trim began to look like fungi were devouring the pattern. It was a small aggravation and certainly tolerable given the car’s other attributes.

Over the years, we rolled up the miles: vacationing, visiting the kids, commuting to work, running errands. Eventually, indicator lights quit working. Eventually, I had those replaced. Minor things, easily and affordably repaired. Then, the car began leaking oil. Not using it, not burning it up in big, blue clouds of embarrassing smoke. Leaking it. On the garage floor, on the street, anywhere the car sat running for even a half-minute, it left a pool of oil. Our mechanic, who has been a mechanic for a few decades and a few thousand cars, said, “Man! I’ve never seen a car throw out that much oil! We had that thing running while it was up on the rack; I thought I’d taken an oil shower.”

A bar of soap, several oil seals and six hundred dollars later, no more oil leak. No more oil on the garage floor, on the streets or in our ride buddy’s driveway. It was a good change. And besides, it was time for a new timing belt, anyway.

Even the most rugged of us need a bit of monitoring and maintenance over the years. Someone to see the things that we can’t see and to let us know what we need to know, even if we don’t necessarily want to know it. Sometimes, the very person who needs a spiritual overhaul is the only one in the neighborhood who doesn’t know it.

H. Arnett
4/14/10