Old Moldy

Some people have cool cars. Porsches, BMWs, Ferraris, a VW bug with flames on it.

Some people have sexy names for their cars. Love Machine, The Beast, Sex on Wheels.

I have a 1995 Nissan Quest. I call it Old Moldy.

There are many advantages to owning a minivan. Lots of space for passengers or cargo. It’s good to be the friend who can fit lots of people or stuff into his car. Since my family doesn’t own a truck, my minivan has to act as the heavy lifter for picking up new furniture or goat food (yes, we own goats. Don’t ask).

Yes, owning a minivan has its advantages. But owning a nearly 20-year-old minivan comes with many disadvantages, too.

The front windshield has a crack along the bottom. The driver’s side window can’t roll down. The wiper on the back windshield is falling apart. The windows will sometimes fog up from the inside.

The front right turn signal hasn’t worked for years and one of the back taillights is currently smashed.

It has no radio or CD player. I tried adding one of those portable radio tuners you can attach to the car, but it died.

Old Moldy smells bad because my parents often use it to haul garbage to the dump, as well as hay and grain for the goats (I said don’t ask! I’ll save it for another blog). Plus, my cousin’s gym shorts once hung out in the back for at least a year before they were found and removed.

There’s an apple juice stain on the ceiling from the previous owners. It’s been there for about 15 years.

Any sustained period of driving over 55 MPH is not good for Old Moldy’s engine. You have maybe an hour before it starts wearing down. I don’t like to risk it unless I have to. Old Moldy pretty much stays in town.

Green fungus of some kind grows on the outside.

I once discovered a small wasp nest on the side mirror. I grabbed the hose, set the sprayer to “jet,” and after staring face-to-face with the wasp sitting atop his or her nest, I opened fire with the hose. It was the most intense showdown of my life. 

Another time it was infested with small spiders that made webs all around the front windshield.

It has broken down more times that I can remember. The first time, most notably, in the middle of nowhere – deep in the heart of Eastern Washington. Thankfully a rest stop was nearby. My father and I had to push Old Moldy up a hill in the hot sun to get there, but it was nearby (we burned our hands because the sun had heated up Old Moldy after a full day of driving).

The last time Old Moldy broke down was the night of the Super Bowl. Already disheartened by the loss, I was driving my girlfriend home when the heater suddenly stopped and the headlights dimmed to almost nothing (the heater being one of the few things that still works well, so I was very displeased). Luckily we were only half a mile from my house, and I managed to drive it back home in the dark. 

My stepfather later checked the engine and found the alternator belt missing. Not broken or damaged in any way – simply gone. Vanished.

And oh yes…the mold. Twice in the last four years I’ve returned from long stays elsewhere to find mold growing in the middle or back seats. That’s where the name originates from.

It was my good friend and persistent antagonist “Puma,” who came up with the name after the first time I discovered mold in the car. I was home from college and on my way to visit him when I noticed a peculiar smell in the car, and noticed mold growing in the seats right behind me. Naturally I drove to his house anyway and showed him.

And thus Old Moldy was born.

So it is that any conversation between Puma and I now inevitably turns to Old Moldy. It’s one of many things he gives me grief about.

Luckily I now have a weapon of my own to use against him. Unless Puma wants the story of “The Fruit Fly Infestation” to go public, he won’t say anything about Old Moldy again.

For while Old Moldy is a great, and at times expensive, hassle, I can’t help but love the old girl. It’s served me well these past six years. Reasonably well…relatively well…ok, not that well. But I still love her! Besides, Old Moldy was a gift from some friends. My father drove it all the way up from San Francisco for my 17^th birthday after the previous owners, longtime friends of him and I, gave it up.

Not to mention I’m basically stuck with Old Moldy since there is no way my family or I can afford replacing it with something nicer. I learn to live with it.

So you can keep your fancy cars that actually work properly. I’m going to stick with my garbage hauling, insect infested, rancid smelling, mold growing minivan.

At least until I find a job that requires me to drive on a daily basis or move out of town. Otherwise I might be in trouble.