She’s almost nineteen years old now but the very first time I saw her and fell in love with her, she was brand new.

A girlfriend told me many years ago to never to buy anything unless I loved it. I loved that car.

Her name is Little White Car, my grandson Bobby named her when he was a toddler.
She’s been fun to drive all these years and perfect for the many top-down months we have in sunny California.
She’s unique, I rarely see another like her on the road anywhere.

After both my husband (Lobo) and I retired, I found that I was driving her less, actually almost never.
She sat idle in the garage.
AAA put three new batteries in her over 4 years because I wasn’t driving her. We began taking her for rides once a week to save her battery and that’s when we realized that we were no longer able to hop into that little roadster with ease. Now it was more like getting in and out of a bathtub, not so easy. It had become a process needing a bit of thought and a few moans and groans. Our limberness was gone. The only thing I was sure of was it would never get any easier….. hopping in was over.
While we’re on the subject, if you love taking baths and still hop in and out of the tub, take it from an old tub hopper, it doesn’t last. It ends up just like trying to get in and out of a teeny two-seater car so, enjoy those baths while you can.

Lately there seems to be a trend, I’ve been reading about it in articles and on Facebook. Time to make our lives simpler by getting rid of “stuff” that’s just hanging around collecting dust that we don’t really use or need….declutter is the word.
I thought about it. Was it time to declutter the garage? She’s parked there, taking up space. I wrestled with the idea of selling her, but I still loved her.

I mentioned it to my two daughters, both thought I should keep her.
I sent my grandson Bobby a message and told him. He sent back a sad face with a tears emoji.
Lobo said exactly what I knew he would; “Do what makes you happy.”

She needed to have a SMOG check and new registration tags.
During a short conversation with the smog check guy, he suggested that if I wanted to sell her, I should take her to the college lot where local people sell their cars every week-end. He mentioned that a Crossfire coupe had sold a few months earlier for a hefty price.

I still wasn’t sure about selling but in the meantime, just in case, she needed some attention. She hadn’t had a good clean-up in a while so we had her detailed inside and out. When they finished she looked brand new. She was so cute. How could I sell her?

I didn’t know what to do. Eventually I came up with a plan. I’d put her up for sale, put a ridiculously high price on her that certainly no one would pay and when summer week-ends were over, I’d quit trying. But I could reckon in my own mind that well, I tried. After that, she’d go back to her spot in the garage and…..clutter for a while longer.

Well my reading friends, this is what happened…..

I filled out the paper work and paid the fee and for three week-ends in a row, we parked Little White Car in the lot on Fridays and brought her home on Sundays. I wasn’t sad that she hadn’t sold, I was counting on it. I was happy to bring her home each Sunday.

On week-end number four we found a perfect shady spot for her to show off her cuteness and advertise her much too high asking price. We backed her in between the indicated red markers, taped the paper to her window with information and phone number and then pushed the button to open her trunk and bring her top up for the week-end. Her trunk opened but then something went wrong. The rag-top wouldn’t come up. Her motor kept whirring and trying but nothing was happening. Nineteen years and this was a first. We looked at each other. WHAT THE HECK? We tried a few more times taking turns but it wasn’t happening and we knew that it wasn’t GONNA happen.
We pushed the button and the trunk went back down and…..Little White Car left the lot with us.

We drove her straight to the dealership.

While waiting to talk with the mechanic, an inside sales person with a clip board came out and offered us $5,000 for her on the spot. REALLY? $5,000? NO!

Eventually it was our turn and we explained to the mechanic what had happened and left her there to be repaired.

Little White Car is high maintenance. I had no idea when I fell in love with her that she was a Chrysler body with Mercedes insides. I shudder every time she needs an oil change or worse, new tires, so I knew this was not gonna be fun. My brain was thinking probably somewhere around a $2,000 repair.

The call from the dealership came 3 or 4 days later. I was nowhere near prepared for what he had to say. The repair was going to cost $11,000.00. That’s ELEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS for a 19 year old car!!!! The report was that the mechanic couldn’t even get into where he needed to get to see what was going on but figured she needed hydruaulic fluid. He explained that there are 7 cartridges back there that hold hydraulic fluid to make her top go up and down and each cartridge is about $1,000 to replace.

Right about then I thought about finding the guy with the clipboard who had offered $5,000 for her.

For a fleeting moment I wondered if this was the Karma-Car-Fairy socking it to me for pricing her so high?

The suggestion from the dealership guy was to keep her in the garage and drive her only on top down days or donate her for a tax write off. In my thoughts, I had a “suggestion” for him! The charge was $250 to tell me that they weren’t sure they could fix her but…..if they could, I’d need to shell out $11,000.00 more.

While I was bringing her home to her spot in the garage, I heard my mom’s words running through my head. NO IS NOT A WORD. DO NOT ACCEPT NO. So where do I go with that?

One of the things we learned during the lock-down COVID years was how amazing the magic machine (computer) really is. It knows everything. Just ask it. You’ve got a problem? Go on line, say it how ever you need to say it and BOOM you’ll find your problem isn’t unique, it’s happened to others, lots and lots of others and they all have suggestions and even fixes. And so we did just that.

We were directed to Crossfire clubs across this country and yep, many others have had the same problem. We read about the problem until we were sure we understood what was wrong and then…..we went to Youtube and there they were, the same Crossfire people telling us how to actually fix the problem…..OURSELVES.

Mostly out of necessity during the COVID years, we became DO-IT-YOURSELFERS (I think the term is DIY’s). We’d tell the magic machine our problem and sure enough there was always solutions. It never let us down. The magic machine told us the parts we’d need, where to order them and BOOM they’d show up at our doorstep the next day.
It became almost fun to realize we could fix things.

New trunk hydraulic lift?
New rod to keep the front hood up?
Air and cabin filters need replacing?
Leaky toilet?
Broken toilet handles?
Bidet installation?
Broken ice machine?

No longer did we need the service of paid professionals, we had become Mr & Mrs DIY.

And with each repair instead of a bill, we’d pour two glasses of wine, high-five and congratulate each other on another job well done.

WE would fix that convertible top! We pumped each other up. We could do it. We began the research.

The very first thing we learned is that it’s a common problem and had to do with 7 cylinders containing hydraulic fluid because after 19 years, the fluid was gone.
The next thing we learned is there’s a place in Oregon that either sells new cylindars or will rebuild our old ones.
The mechanic at the dealership had told us that if it was the cylinders, they would cost $1,000.00 each to replace.
The place in Oregon quoted $200 each to rebuild our old ones.

We were that far. We decided to take a break before we took the leap.
No hurry. No stress. We either fixed her or we didn’t but we were NOT paying anyone $11,000. THAT was not gonna happen.

When we first decided to sell her, my daughter Sweet Melissa suggested that she advertise somewhere online. We were fine with that as long as she handled it, and she did. (By the way, I call her sweet because she REALLY is!)

Within a couple of weeks after posting, Melissa received a message from a woman named Jodi who had seen the ad and was inquiring about Little White Car.
They communicated back and forth by text and Melissa explained to Jodi that the sale was temporarily on hold and why. During one of their text sessions, Jodi mentioned that she and her partner Bob were just returning to California from a Crossfire Club road trip back east and would love an opportunity to take a look at Little White Car. Jodi described her partner Bob as a Crossfire expert. She added that he loves to “tinker” with them and got a kick out of helping Crossfire owners as he well knows there are no mechanics anywhere to be found that have any understanding of them and maybe he could help us.

It was an amazing generous offer but we weren’t letting our hopes get too out of control.

They were expecting to be back in this area by July 2nd and would let Melissa know when they could meet with us.

As strange things sometimes go, it turns out that Jodi lives in the same city outside of Sacramento that we do.

On July 3rd, Melissa called to let us know that Jodi and Crossfire Bob would like to stop by.

Melissa arrived just a few minutes before a couple in a top down red Crossfire pulled up. The five of us did a group introduction to each other.

Jodi had a great smile, it lit her face and sparkled her eyes. Her sassy, short spiked hair was almost the red color of her Crossfire.
Crossfire Bob? Visualize Kenny Rogers at his best and….. I’ll bet he can sing!

We THOUGHT he’d just kinda take a look at her and say, “Yep, that’s what’s wrong.” Maybe a little bit of a conversation about it, maybe some suggestions from him what to do but nope, he lifted the trunk lid, got inside where the rag top was in a heartbeat using the crow-bar looking tool that’s been in my glove box for 19 years. He took a quick look and verified what he thought. Two of the cartridges (not 7) needed to be rebuilt. Within minutes he had them popped out and in his hands.

My sweet man had assisted and paid very close attention. Crossfire Bob was leaving California in 2 weeks so Lobo knew that it would be him putting those cartridges back.

Melissa had pulled three fold-up chairs off the garage hooks and she, Jodi and I sat and talked while the two guys leaned into the back of Little White car and Lobo watched and learned while Crossfire Bob taught.

He handed the two cartridges to Lobo and suggested that we call the Oregon shop and they’d direct us on how to get the cartridges to them.

Start to finish from the moment they pulled up to the moment we said thank you times a million and they pulled away, was one hour.

We called the shop in Oregon and left a voice mail message.

So, how do we thank two almost strangers who pulled up in our driveway, and in no time were confident of the problem and how to fix it?
We offered compensation and they refused.

Maybe a bottle of fine wine? Melissa mentioned that during our conversation, Jodi had commented that they enjoyed Margaritas.

Everything we know about Margarita’s is how to pour them from the large premade jugs in our refrigerator.

We headed to the liquor store and requested help from the clerk. He led us to the shelves full of the needed ingredients to make a Margarita; Tequila, Agave Nectar and Gran Marnier. He pointed out his three favorite brands and left us to decide. Keeping in mind that we buy premade jugs, we were lost. I chose the Tequila because it was in a lovely decanter. Lobo chose Gran Marnier because that’s his favorite when we now and then stop somewhere for chips, salsa and a Margarita. A customer listening to our confused conversation offered his opinion of the best Agave Nectar.
He guaranteed us that a better Agave Nectar doesn’t exist. How could we go wrong?
With our three choices, a container of Margarita salt, a jar of Salsa, a bag of tortilla chips, 2 limes and a basket to hold it all, we had our Thank You gift.
Melissa thought it was a great gift and offered to deliver it for us.

The following morning we received an E-mail with mailing instructions from the Oregon shop. $400 up front and 4-6 weeks to get the rebuilt cartridges back. Four to six weeks? That meant for sure we were gonna be on our own to re-install them, Crossfire Bob was leaving California and heading for Kansas in less than two weeks.

We paid the $400 on line and packaged the two empty cartridges and sent them on their way. Inside with the cartridges was a card with a note; “Dear hydraulic cartridge rebuild person. If there’s any way you can rebuild these cartridges and send them back to me ASAP and for sure before two weeks, PLEASE do it. I’m almost 80 years old. I have a gentleman here who knows how to replace the cartridges but he’ll be gone in two weeks. If you do it, you’re awesome and I thank you. Sue Fone”

FIVE DAYS after we mailed the empty cartridges with the note to Oregon, we received an E-mail that the rebuilt cartridges were on their way and they’d be delivered to us on Thursday. They were back to us in ONE week, not four to six!

Melissa spoke with Jodi and let her know the cartridges were on the way. Jodi said they’d be at our garage on Saturday morning.

Sure enough, the cartridges arrived as scheduled and on Saturday morning so did the adorable Crossfire Couple.

Unfortunately Melissa wasn’t able to join us. She was recovering from hand surgery she’d had the day before. (Warning to all you devoted gym people…..take it easy with the bar bells. Melissa made a wrong move and ended up with a completely torn ligament and needed to have surgical replacement. AND IT HURT!)

As before, Jodi and I sat in the garage and talked but she was always aware of what Crossfire Bob was doing and like the nurses in surgery, she was ready to assist with tools in hand as he needed them.
With little difficulty and a bit over an hour, the job was complete.

He turned her ignition key, pushed the button and my heart decided not to beat for a moment. I heard the familiar whirring sound of her motor and the loud pop of her trunk opening and watched as her little rag-top slowly unfolded, stretched out like arms on her metal guides, traveled slowly over the top of her interior and gently bounced down at the rim of her windshield lining up perfectly with the large claw that would lock and hold her in place. It worked! He did it!! He fixed her!!!
He handed me her keys and back and forth she went, obeying my button command.

The heat was climbing, it was gonna be another triple digit day.
But this amazing man wasn’t done. He moved to the front of Little White Car, raised her hood and looked her over and made a few suggestions of items that needed attention.

The crisis has ended. The $11,000.00 repair totaled $400.00. That’s a savings of $10,600.00.

In the process we’ve made two new, awesome friends and I have an adorable little car and….. sell her?
Not on your life!

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