Cars Part 4: A Corsica For a Week

A while back I had started a series of posts about the various cars I’ve owned in my life. Thrilling topic, I know. I guess it’s more for me than anything. I forgot about the topic…until now. So here we go.

After my Mercury Tracer was towed away and left in an impound lot where I could not afford to get it out, I was left carless. I was unemployed at the time and living in the city, so I didn’t really need to get anywhere. But, still, I’d always had a car and the thought of not having one was very uncomfortable for me.

My sister had just bought a new car and had her old late 80s/early 90s Chevy Corsica just sitting at her house going unused, so she offered it to me. She told me that it had a few problems, but it should be enough to get me by.

As always, not the actual car. But it looked just like this...with a lot more rust.

I went to pick it up and opened the driver’s side door and a rush of oil stench came back to me. It was like someone poured oil all over the inside of the car. I sat in the driver’s seat and looked at the mess next to me: Piles of dust and dirt and scum sat on the dashboard. I couldn’t believe she had been driving this thing. But, beggars can’t be choosers and off I went.

My sister lives in the small town of Norwood Young America and I was living in Minneapolis at the time. This is about a 45 minute drive (I cannot remember how I even got out there to pick the car up). I was about 10 minutes from my home when the car stalled on me at a stop light. It had felt very untrusting as I was driving home, so I chose to stay off the freeway and took a back way into the city. I turned the key multiple times and finally it started up again. But for the rest of the way home, it stalled at every light.

I got home and looked at the monstrosity I had just driven home. It was covered in rust. The inside, as I said, smelled of oil and dust. And now there it was, sitting outside of my apartment, waiting for me to buy it insurance and gasoline. Waiting for me to replace whatever was causing it to stall. Did I really need a car?

I’m fairly certain I drove it for about a week. The smell was terrible and I always had to have the windows down. I was afraid to smoke in it as I feared the spark of the lighter flame would ignite whatever that oil smell was. Eventually I drove it back to Norwood Young America and gave it back to my sister, somehow got back home, and spent some time carless. I do not remember this carless time of my life. I am seriously straining to recall how I got around. I have no recollection.