Way back in High School, they beat into your brain just how important time management really is in life. To give you an idea, I usually find the time to contribute to this fine body of work during naptime for my two-year old. I need to be quiet, can't leave the house, and writing fit in well.
Recently, though, I have been working on an old house, renovating it (leaving little time for writing). I am in the midst of mudding and taping the sheetrock, which just takes time. If you have not done it before, you should be aware that each coat of joint compound goes on finicky, and you can't really touch it until it is completely dry. The drying process should in theory take 24 hours, but in all practicality, it is taking longer. I still keep busy while the mud is drying because it is a big house, but honestly, there is no rushing it. Come back too soon and it crumbles under the weight of your tool.
As I have been working, such a monotonous job (lacking in measurements, squaring, planning, and other brain occupiers) has left me time to get to know all of the new radio stations, catch back up with all of today's big hits, and let old songs remind me of past times in my own life. It has been nice going back down memory lane. I have thought of trying to contact a few people I have grown apart from, but who has time for that?
The extra time has also let me think ahead.This weekend, there is a big Jeep club meeting and the (probably) last ride of the wheeling season. I have really been looking forward to both. The Vermont Jeep Association plans to elect me as their president, which is an honor, but the run afterwards has really been on my mind.
Every hour, on the hour they talk about the weather on the radio, more during drive time. On nice days, it goes by un-noticed. These days, for me, I am all ears. There is a coastal low moving up towards Vermont, and they are using the "N" word a lot. (Nor-Easter for the flatlanders out there). The Nor-Easter is great for skiers and snowmobilers, a churning winter storm that could potentially drop 2-4 feet of snow on the Green Mountain state. For me, however, looking forward to the last ride of the season in my open-topped old Jeep, I cringe at the thought of spending all day out in the woods, wet and cold. That doesn't mean I won't go, it just means that I will need to combine ski clothes with a fisherman's hat to make the day comfortable. Ugh. I probably will put the bikini top on for the day ( I haven't any other).
There is practically no chance of me not going. I have permission from the wife to leave her stranded with both kids all day. Such an opportunity is not to be overlooked. If the ride is cancelled due to high water or excessive trail wear, I would understand, but probably still spend the day wrenching. I have found the motor and transmission for some future Hot Rod project, but have been unable to find the time to pull it out of the motorhome it grew up in. I could work on that on Sunday, but I will probably have the kids with me, and so lifting a 351 and c-6 overhead and into the back of the truck is probably not the best family activity. The kids would definitely come home greasy and make for more laundry. Besides, it is supposed to rain.
A plumber I have been working with has been looking forward to deer season. For him, he gets a week pass from his wife, and is off to New York to find the big bucks. Apparently, the Vermont program of passing on spikehorn bucks has not netted the final trophies yet. So he goes away for a week with his brother and a few friends to persue a few extra (antler) points.
It is his yearly trip, a sign of the seasons, if you will. Kudos to him for finding the time. For me, there is always work to be done, or wheeling, or pulling an engine, or watching the kids, or fishing, or football, or... Thank God I am not a hunter too.
Showing posts with label Jeep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeep. Show all posts
Summer in the Springtime
Spring is here in Vermont, but it sure does feel like summer. Temperatures in the 90s do a lot to get folks outside and enjoying the Vermont landscape.
A trip to get creemees after dinner really drove the point home. Of course, we were not the only ones with that plan in mind. I decided to drive the (recently through rehab) Willys Jeep down with the family in tow. Driving with the top off really was the only way to stay comfortable int he car without AC.
I wasn't the only one with that idea either. In the village, while we were struggling to catch ice cream drips before they hit my son's shirt, we witnessed one of the better things that comes back with the warm weather.
It seems like everywhere we looked, we saw motorcycles, convertibles, and classic cars out enjoying the warm weather. I talked for a few minutes with a fellow who had just bought his wife's uncle's 1970 Cutlass Supreme. It was a beautiful orange convertible with a 350 and like-original whitewalls. It still purred through its untouched mufflers; none of the growl I would have added to turn heads in town.
The car was a sight. It had white leather upholstery and brown carpet on the lower half of the doors. The owner had it out to take the kids to the creemee stand, just like us.
This time of year really makes living through the long, cold winter worthwhile. Vermonters can enjoy the outdoors, although slathered in bug spray to ward off the black flies, once again. We come out to plant our gardens. Some of us come out again to re-plant out gardens which were killed by the late snowfall last month. We come out to recreate, perhaps bringing a picnic to the park. We come out to swim, though the water is still a bit cold for my tastes. Most of all, we come out to be with those we love. Adding the summer cars to the mix just makes it that much better.
A trip to get creemees after dinner really drove the point home. Of course, we were not the only ones with that plan in mind. I decided to drive the (recently through rehab) Willys Jeep down with the family in tow. Driving with the top off really was the only way to stay comfortable int he car without AC.
I wasn't the only one with that idea either. In the village, while we were struggling to catch ice cream drips before they hit my son's shirt, we witnessed one of the better things that comes back with the warm weather.
It seems like everywhere we looked, we saw motorcycles, convertibles, and classic cars out enjoying the warm weather. I talked for a few minutes with a fellow who had just bought his wife's uncle's 1970 Cutlass Supreme. It was a beautiful orange convertible with a 350 and like-original whitewalls. It still purred through its untouched mufflers; none of the growl I would have added to turn heads in town.
The car was a sight. It had white leather upholstery and brown carpet on the lower half of the doors. The owner had it out to take the kids to the creemee stand, just like us.
This time of year really makes living through the long, cold winter worthwhile. Vermonters can enjoy the outdoors, although slathered in bug spray to ward off the black flies, once again. We come out to plant our gardens. Some of us come out again to re-plant out gardens which were killed by the late snowfall last month. We come out to recreate, perhaps bringing a picnic to the park. We come out to swim, though the water is still a bit cold for my tastes. Most of all, we come out to be with those we love. Adding the summer cars to the mix just makes it that much better.
Cars with character
Different cars have different purposes. That is the way it is supposed to be. Carmakers acknowledge it. That is why we are not all riding around in sedans. They make minivans for families, compact cars for the economy crowd, pickups for working. Each has its place.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
Everything is not disposable
We live in a disposable culture. It is often more cost effective to throw away the old than repair it. I can remember a story I heard about a $20 printer that took $80 ink cartridges. You got a set when you bought the machine new, so buying ink was more expensive than buying a whole new machine.The guy bought four printers and sent them to the landfill when they ran out of ink. It is ridiculous.
These days the Maytag repairman is not out of work because the machines are so reliable, it is because nobody is willing to pay for the $90 house call when a new machine is only $40 more. It was not always this way. It used to be that people kept stuff running for more than a year or two. Then, if it started acting up, they fixed it. That kept repairmen in business, and helped the local economy. Isn't that a movement today?
Take my old Willys Jeep for instance. It is a perfect example of the durability of yesteryear. I needed to tune it up and get it running right for the season. I looked through the Universal Jeep Service Manual and discovered with glee that I could do the entire job without buying a thing. Engine oil and spark plugs aside, nothing is discarded. Finally, something that was built to be serviced.
It is a far throw from modern vehicles. Recently, to get a Ford truck back up to par, I saw the grimace on the owner's face when he paid a $350 bill for just one engine sensor. Sure it is a diesel, and sure, the new truck might be easier to drive most of the time than my old Willys, but that convenience sure comes with a price.
The Ford was more than ten times the original purchase price of the Universal Jeep. And replacing that one sensor, even today, costs as much as an entire new suspension on the Jeep. Admittedly, it would take ten CJs to equal the pulling power of the Ford, but that is besides the point.
I have owned my old Jeep for five years now. Over that time I have done a frame-off renovation (I call it a renovation because I am not restoring it to original form, and I am upgrading to more modern pieces where it is possible.) I have been amazed how much easier it has been to work on than modern vehicles, including other Jeeps in my fleet.
I might have broken off ten bolt heads in the work on my Jeep over the years. Ten bolts total. That is unheard of by modern terms. These days, just replacing a wheel bearing, you are sure to break at least one. Have you ever tried to do exhaust work? Imagine the count if you replaced the whole suspension. Add to that the number if you removed the body... (For you non-mechanics, we are well into the POUNDS of broken bolt bits by now. You might as well save them for scrap steel and make a buck.) It is crazy.
It was a different time. Parts back then were made to be fixed, not replaced. Gaskets and wires were hand cut, not bought pre-made. If the engine was running rough, you tuned it by ear, or with a timing light, not by plugging in a code reader.It did require more of a sixth sense to work on, but the old Jeep has stood the test of time, and certainly not left a trail of burnt sensors and throwaway parts in its wake.
The old Jeep is sixty five this year. That is old enough for social security. People don't hold up as well as it has. But, it is easier to replace parts on a Jeep.
These days the Maytag repairman is not out of work because the machines are so reliable, it is because nobody is willing to pay for the $90 house call when a new machine is only $40 more. It was not always this way. It used to be that people kept stuff running for more than a year or two. Then, if it started acting up, they fixed it. That kept repairmen in business, and helped the local economy. Isn't that a movement today?
Take my old Willys Jeep for instance. It is a perfect example of the durability of yesteryear. I needed to tune it up and get it running right for the season. I looked through the Universal Jeep Service Manual and discovered with glee that I could do the entire job without buying a thing. Engine oil and spark plugs aside, nothing is discarded. Finally, something that was built to be serviced.
It is a far throw from modern vehicles. Recently, to get a Ford truck back up to par, I saw the grimace on the owner's face when he paid a $350 bill for just one engine sensor. Sure it is a diesel, and sure, the new truck might be easier to drive most of the time than my old Willys, but that convenience sure comes with a price.
The Ford was more than ten times the original purchase price of the Universal Jeep. And replacing that one sensor, even today, costs as much as an entire new suspension on the Jeep. Admittedly, it would take ten CJs to equal the pulling power of the Ford, but that is besides the point.
I have owned my old Jeep for five years now. Over that time I have done a frame-off renovation (I call it a renovation because I am not restoring it to original form, and I am upgrading to more modern pieces where it is possible.) I have been amazed how much easier it has been to work on than modern vehicles, including other Jeeps in my fleet.
I might have broken off ten bolt heads in the work on my Jeep over the years. Ten bolts total. That is unheard of by modern terms. These days, just replacing a wheel bearing, you are sure to break at least one. Have you ever tried to do exhaust work? Imagine the count if you replaced the whole suspension. Add to that the number if you removed the body... (For you non-mechanics, we are well into the POUNDS of broken bolt bits by now. You might as well save them for scrap steel and make a buck.) It is crazy.
It was a different time. Parts back then were made to be fixed, not replaced. Gaskets and wires were hand cut, not bought pre-made. If the engine was running rough, you tuned it by ear, or with a timing light, not by plugging in a code reader.It did require more of a sixth sense to work on, but the old Jeep has stood the test of time, and certainly not left a trail of burnt sensors and throwaway parts in its wake.
The old Jeep is sixty five this year. That is old enough for social security. People don't hold up as well as it has. But, it is easier to replace parts on a Jeep.
Spring Cleaning
Why can't I ever seem to throw anything away?
Some folks say that being a packrat runs in your blood. I might just believe that. My grandmother had the bug for certain. When she died, years ago, it almost took the corps of engineers to go through all of the stuff that she had accumulated over a lifetime.
I'm not that bad yet. My wife might have a different opinion. I still shudder at the thought of tossing a perfectly straight coffee can with lid. It might be useful holding nuts and bolts in the garage some day.Or it could turn into a set of stilts for my daughter to get hurt on. Those things have a million uses, after all. So, I stash it away with the old ice cream container and the old mesh fruit sack (those make a good scrub brush for car tires if you ever need one).
I do try to get rid of useless stuff, but somehow, I can always seem to find a use for most of what responsible people might send to the dump. You know that "Reuse Zone" they have at the transfer station? That was practically built for me. I have rescued books, skis, and sundry other items as well. Stopping in that little shed is almost as exciting for me as bringing stuff to the dump is for my wife.
Perhaps it comes with space. Years ago, when I lived in an apartment alone, my life could fit in the bed of my pickup truck. Over the next few residences, each a bit larger and nicer than the last, I somehow acquired more and more stuff. The house I live in now has a barn. It was a major selling point when my wife and I bought it. I didn't ever think that I would be able to fill it up. But time passed, we had kids, and I did it.
Somehow over the last eight years or so, I have covered the floors of the four horse stalls with snow tires, play pools, a boat we don't use, lumber, furniture, and boxes of leftover junk from my youth. The open areas now have a conglomeration of Jeeps and Jeep parts. it is getting so that it is difficult to walk through there these days in the dark. What to do? What to do? What to do?
Or, do I need to do anything? I have seen those shows about the people who horde everything under the sun away in their tiny houses stacked to the ceiling. I am not that bad, I don't think. Birds still use the barn for a home in the summertime. They can fly through there. That is proof enough for me.
Why, you would have to be standing in my back yard to see the piles of firewood and old scrap steel lying in the snowdrifts. From the road, my house is as clean as the statehouse (both of which are prone to the occasional dog chasing a ball across the grass, mind you). But despite appearances from the outside, I feel the need to do something about my growing piles of stuff.
Spring is in the air. Before we know it, the warmer weather will prompt the annual garage clean out... and the house clean out... and the barn clean out. Dutifully, as a husband and certified junk collector, I will go through and half-organize, half hide away, half junk my amassed collections. Why you might ask? Well, I am more than familiar with the habits of Vermonters all across the state this time of year. Many will be doing the same. And with the great clean-out comes the other springtime tradition, the great garage sale.
Did I tell you that I got a working chainsaw at a garage sale last year for $3.85?
Yes, the decimal is supposed to be there, and yes, I now own two.
I am a junk collector, after all.
Some folks say that being a packrat runs in your blood. I might just believe that. My grandmother had the bug for certain. When she died, years ago, it almost took the corps of engineers to go through all of the stuff that she had accumulated over a lifetime.
I'm not that bad yet. My wife might have a different opinion. I still shudder at the thought of tossing a perfectly straight coffee can with lid. It might be useful holding nuts and bolts in the garage some day.Or it could turn into a set of stilts for my daughter to get hurt on. Those things have a million uses, after all. So, I stash it away with the old ice cream container and the old mesh fruit sack (those make a good scrub brush for car tires if you ever need one).
I do try to get rid of useless stuff, but somehow, I can always seem to find a use for most of what responsible people might send to the dump. You know that "Reuse Zone" they have at the transfer station? That was practically built for me. I have rescued books, skis, and sundry other items as well. Stopping in that little shed is almost as exciting for me as bringing stuff to the dump is for my wife.
Perhaps it comes with space. Years ago, when I lived in an apartment alone, my life could fit in the bed of my pickup truck. Over the next few residences, each a bit larger and nicer than the last, I somehow acquired more and more stuff. The house I live in now has a barn. It was a major selling point when my wife and I bought it. I didn't ever think that I would be able to fill it up. But time passed, we had kids, and I did it.
Somehow over the last eight years or so, I have covered the floors of the four horse stalls with snow tires, play pools, a boat we don't use, lumber, furniture, and boxes of leftover junk from my youth. The open areas now have a conglomeration of Jeeps and Jeep parts. it is getting so that it is difficult to walk through there these days in the dark. What to do? What to do? What to do?
Or, do I need to do anything? I have seen those shows about the people who horde everything under the sun away in their tiny houses stacked to the ceiling. I am not that bad, I don't think. Birds still use the barn for a home in the summertime. They can fly through there. That is proof enough for me.
Why, you would have to be standing in my back yard to see the piles of firewood and old scrap steel lying in the snowdrifts. From the road, my house is as clean as the statehouse (both of which are prone to the occasional dog chasing a ball across the grass, mind you). But despite appearances from the outside, I feel the need to do something about my growing piles of stuff.
Spring is in the air. Before we know it, the warmer weather will prompt the annual garage clean out... and the house clean out... and the barn clean out. Dutifully, as a husband and certified junk collector, I will go through and half-organize, half hide away, half junk my amassed collections. Why you might ask? Well, I am more than familiar with the habits of Vermonters all across the state this time of year. Many will be doing the same. And with the great clean-out comes the other springtime tradition, the great garage sale.
Did I tell you that I got a working chainsaw at a garage sale last year for $3.85?
Yes, the decimal is supposed to be there, and yes, I now own two.
I am a junk collector, after all.
Rust is a Funny Thing
I was looking through craigslist postings for an engine donor for my old Jeep. I was amazed at what people want for cars these days.
One post I saw wanted more than $2000 for a 93 GMC Jimmy 2wd!
Sure, it may be a southern car, but no serious Vermonter would want to pay that for it.
The problem with southern cars is that they were initially sold in the south. Frankly, car companies deliver different vehicles to different areas of the country. The south gets no factory rustproofing. No amount of 'Rubberized Undercoating' can make up for bare metal inside the cavities of a southern car.
Let me give you an idea. I moved to Vermont in 2000. in anticipation of the move, I bought a Jeep Cherokee 4x4. When I bought it, the flatlander dealership thought I was nuts. The state did not see snow - ever - and the only thing they could think of was that i would turn it into a "mudder". I bought it nonetheless, and promptly moved to Vermont.
I hardly drove it. at age four, it only had 45,000 miles on it. I lived near to Newton's Car Wash in Burlington at the time, and washed it every week, summer and winter alike. I sprayed on the rubberized undercoating fromthe hardware store, and did everything else that I could to try and keep the rust at bay. I was good.
Today, if you look under that truck next to another Jeep of similar age and experience, it is like night and day. The rust got it where the tow bar kept moisture, the rust got it when the cold nights forced condensation inside the unprotected framerails. It is practically falling apart.
Back to the craigslist posting. In Vermont, that bluebook value goes right out the window. It doesn't matter how many miles, or where a car was from. Unless it is never driven, a southern car will succumb to Vermont's red scourge within four years. I guarantee it. The fact that that Jimmy was 2wd rather than 4wd is even more of a reason that its owners will be disappointed when it does not sell. Somebody they work with, or a neighbor needs to explain it to the owner. Kelly BlueBook is not accurate in the Green Mountain State.
As a matter-of-fact, someone should publish a GreenBook for Vermonters. I can see it now. the book would have listings based on real market value here. A 97 Hyundai would be accurately listed for $450 with the words "Winter Beater" next to it. A 1993 GMC Jimmy 2wd (Southern Car) would list an accurate $750 and the phrase "solid engine, many parts."
One post I saw wanted more than $2000 for a 93 GMC Jimmy 2wd!
Sure, it may be a southern car, but no serious Vermonter would want to pay that for it.
The problem with southern cars is that they were initially sold in the south. Frankly, car companies deliver different vehicles to different areas of the country. The south gets no factory rustproofing. No amount of 'Rubberized Undercoating' can make up for bare metal inside the cavities of a southern car.
Let me give you an idea. I moved to Vermont in 2000. in anticipation of the move, I bought a Jeep Cherokee 4x4. When I bought it, the flatlander dealership thought I was nuts. The state did not see snow - ever - and the only thing they could think of was that i would turn it into a "mudder". I bought it nonetheless, and promptly moved to Vermont.
I hardly drove it. at age four, it only had 45,000 miles on it. I lived near to Newton's Car Wash in Burlington at the time, and washed it every week, summer and winter alike. I sprayed on the rubberized undercoating fromthe hardware store, and did everything else that I could to try and keep the rust at bay. I was good.
Today, if you look under that truck next to another Jeep of similar age and experience, it is like night and day. The rust got it where the tow bar kept moisture, the rust got it when the cold nights forced condensation inside the unprotected framerails. It is practically falling apart.
Back to the craigslist posting. In Vermont, that bluebook value goes right out the window. It doesn't matter how many miles, or where a car was from. Unless it is never driven, a southern car will succumb to Vermont's red scourge within four years. I guarantee it. The fact that that Jimmy was 2wd rather than 4wd is even more of a reason that its owners will be disappointed when it does not sell. Somebody they work with, or a neighbor needs to explain it to the owner. Kelly BlueBook is not accurate in the Green Mountain State.
As a matter-of-fact, someone should publish a GreenBook for Vermonters. I can see it now. the book would have listings based on real market value here. A 97 Hyundai would be accurately listed for $450 with the words "Winter Beater" next to it. A 1993 GMC Jimmy 2wd (Southern Car) would list an accurate $750 and the phrase "solid engine, many parts."
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