1990
De Paul University
Writing from the Inside
Teacher: Zoe Keithley
Dialogue With Dad, Dad I Bought a Toyota
Oh my God, there’s that little kitchen table that I knew so well. It’s sitting in the tiny alcove that made up our kitchen when I was a child. There he is – my dad, sitting there with his legs crossed, right elbow on the table with a cigarette in hand, a cup of brown coffee loyally at his left; that little sugar bowl was always at the exact 3pm point on the round table. He would gaze out the window for long periods. I always wondered – was he thinking about fords even when he was not talking about fords? He would always keep an eye out for the kids around “the Ford” in the driveway; they dare not touch her, his precious Ford.
“Dad, is that really you?” I said.
“Well, now who the hell do you think it is red head?” Said dad in his usual condescending manner.
“God damn you Dad, you’re still Archie Bunker even though your dead and you don’t even know him. I know you’ve turned over in your grave countless times since I bought that Toyota. “Let’s talk about it.” I said.
“Redhead you haven’t listened to me all these years, I’m the father and I know a good car! Your cousin Louie was a foreman at Ford for 34 years, don’t you think he knew Ford, don’t you think he would get me a good deal on a car?” Says, dad.
“Dad, I have heard that logic for years. I respect your loyalty to the company. You should have respect for my loyalty to a car that has kept me safe and saved me a fortune in repair bills for 4 1/2 years.” Say I.
Meanwhile, dad is making faces, shaking his head, and generally emitting body language which says – what a crock of shit.
“Now Dad, I realize you are dead set in your beliefs, but at least respect the fact that I have the courage to face such a formidable opponent – you! I plan to prove to you without a doubt that not only is it OK to buy a foreign car, but it is smart!” So say I.
“Jesus Christ, red, are you nuts? Do you remember that 74 LTD? All the car magazines said what a great car it was. And it was still around and in running order when I died and left it to your mother.” Says, dad.
“You died before the scandal came out about the ford pintos. They had to recall all models between 1971 to 1976 because of flaws in their gas tanks. They would ignite instantly on impact; people were critically burned, and some died. It was the most expensive recall in automotive history.” I say.
“Hey you can’t expect a company to be perfect, we all make mistakes you know.” Says, dad.
“You’re right they all do make mistakes, but I wasn’t finished with the story, Dad. You see Ford had the patent on a new saddle-type gas tank before 1971….
Dad interrupts……….”How do you know that, that was probably some bullshit put out by a competitor.” Says, dad.
“Dad, it was documented in Ford’s own records and made public. What happened was that their “cost-benefit analysis” said it would cost them too much to retool the plants; they were not willing to pay even if it saved people’s lives!” Say I.
“Are you sure red head? Boy, that’s bad news.” Says, dad.
“Yes, Dad I’m sure.
“Now let me tell you about my cavalier. That was a real shit box. After the fact, I read that Consumer Reports said that the 1984 Cavalier was the worst used car to buy.”
“How the hell do they know, I never even heard of Consumer Reports, who the hell are they?” says Dad.
“Dad they are well known today as researchers; they check out products to prevent us from being ripped off. They’re accepted as being very reputable.”
“Well, that’s something new.” Says dad.
“I realize it is. It was a valuable resource for me especially after you died, and I didn’t have you as a resource anymore.” I say, trying to flatter and bullshit Dad.
“Look I made you a list of things I had to replace on the cavalier before 40,000 miles: brakes, muffler, alternator, battery twice, a starter twice, and faulty emission control devices. This is not to mention the fact that the butterfly flange would never open in weather 32 degrees or below; this meant that the car wouldn’t start because the flange opens to let the gas through to the engine.” Say I.
“I know what a butterfly flange does!” Says, dad.
“Well, you might have forgotten since you’ve been dead for a while – I don’t know how memory works after death, I’m not trying to insult you.” Say I.
“So how did you fix that?” asks Dad.
“It was never fixed because I was told by Chevy that those cars are just like that and that they could not fix it. This meant I had to get out of my car, stick my rat-tail comb in the flange, run back in, start the car, then run back out and remove the comb. There were times that I was scared to get out and do my flange thing, then I was also scared not to do it.” Say I trying to appeal to his patriarchal protective instincts and common sense.
“Well, what were you doing going into dangerous neighborhoods? I know I told you about those bad areas.” Says dad forgetting that I am an adult.
“Dad, I work in hospitals. They are not all in good neighborhoods. Anyway, wait till you hear the kicker.” I say with conviction.
“At 44,000 miles my engine blew up on the expressway. I had to walk for 1 hour, in February, to a gas station at 5:30 am. It was a nightmare!” Say I.
“Why were you out so early in the morning?” Says dad, being parental again.
“Dad, I was 38 years old at the time, I could be out at any time – stop avoiding the issue.”
“Go on, go on.” Says dad, shaking his head in disbelief that I can argue with intelligence now.
“The Chevy dealer said, “Tough, lady, you will have to pay $1300.00 for a new engine. I was so pissed, I went spastic. They weren’t going to give me a car to use either while they spent 3 weeks replacing the engine.” I said.
“Gee, what did you do?” Said dad.
“You would have been proud of me Dad. I was obnoxiously assertive and let them know that I was not paying to replace an engine on a car with only 40,000 miles on it. I was not going to lose my job because I did not have a car for 3 weeks. I could not afford to pay $25.00 a day for 3 weeks to rent a car. I would not be doing all this because they made such a shitty car – I was not paying for their negligence!” I said, running out of breath.
“Yeah, I am proud of you – you really told em. So, then what happened?” asked Dad.
“Well, I ended up paying $100.00 for the new engine, and they gave me a car to use for the 3 weeks – free,” I said with triumph.
“Great! I agree that you should not have had to pay for their mistakes.” Said, dad.
“Well, now we have discussed American cars. I am glad to tell you that I did some research before I bought another car. In fact, the day after I picked up my Chevy with the new engine I went to the library and spent 4 hours reading Consumer Reports; I read about what cars have the best safety and repair records.” I said.
“God damn, good for you red head!” Dad said.
“Well dad, that’s how I decided to buy a Toyota Corolla. It was a great car. I now have 99,122 miles on it.” I said.
“Holy shit, I never had a car with over 60,000 miles on it.” Said, dad.
“I get my oil changed every 3,000 miles, just like you used to tell me; I get a total maintenance check twice a year, in October and in May. Other than routine maintenance I have only had to replace the tires at 70,000 miles, those I replaced only because I was paranoid – the tires were not worn, a slave flange for the clutch at 95,000 miles, the horn at 91,000 miles, a battery at 72,000 miles, I did this “just because” as nothing was actually wrong with it, 2 headlights and a sun-visor because it looked worn.” I said.
“OK, OK I guess you got yourself a pretty good car.” Said, dad.
“Pretty good? In 4 and a half years it has never not started for me.” I said.
“You know it’s just those Japs, you know, I just like to think that we should support our own first.” Says, dad.
“I understand that, Dad. But my buying this car was actually going right along with things you always used to tell me about taking care of a car, especially for safety’s sake.” I said.
“Yes, I did always tell you to put safety as a big priority. That’s what a father is supposed to do with his daughter.” Dad said.
“Dad, I now think that as a female living alone I have to do things to defend myself from the cold hard world; I think I have to try to get quality in a car regardless of who makes the quality product. Did you know that Chevy makes some cars with Toyota lately?” I said.
“Are you kidding? No, I didn’t know that.” Said, dad.
“Yes, they make cars together because Chevy wants to learn what they do to get such quality products,” I say.
“Dad, do you think you can rest in your grave now?” I say.
“Damn you drive a tough bargain red head. I guess you have made some good points. I can see that you are a real thinker.” Dad says.
“Dad, I was really touched that you left Mom your favorite LTD when you died; you and Mom were divorced, and you didn’t have to do that – you did a sweet thing and Mom really needed the car. Thanks dad! I feel OK about your being dead now – you can be at peace.” I said.
It’s hard to prioritize something by someone else’s rules – but I must. It’s hard to perform heroics when your values conflict so strongly. A policy that gets in the way of common sense, and humanity and encumbers our work is less than functional.