Needs Head Gasket

We recently hit another milestone.

Rebecca passed the New York State written drivers test on her 16th birthday.  Sweet.   
Now for the math test:  Five drivers with two cars equals?  Chaos.

Megan has a Summer job in Farmingdale.   Nepotism at is alive and well on Long Island. 
Megan only took the job to act out scenes from The Office.  (Three spontaneous fire drills have occurred without a known source.)

Gregory stepped up to the plate all year long by happily waking up to drive Dad to Brooklyn.  (More accurately, to the train that takes Dad to Brooklyn.)  This act of sleep-deprivation enabled our G-man to drive a car to school. 
As the Summer approaches he is also seeking a job.  Most likely not near Megan's sitcom. 

Mom (a.k.a. Lisa) has stayed home alone, without a car, for a couple of days.  It seems we don't own enough towels to let the washing machine stop.  But most of Lisa's time has been spent preparing for Rebecca's Sweet 16 birthday party.

We discuss our options over dinner.
Dad says everyone gets a motorcycle license.  "A BMW sits in the garage all day!"  But if another car is purchased we should get a brand new F150 truck.
Mom wants an inexpensive 'station car' .  (The story should end here as most people know Mom rules.)
Megan wants my Pathfinder.  Apparently the Altima radio only has AM stations or something.
Gregory is holding back his opinions.  But from his mime-like expressions I believe he also wants Dad to get a new F150.  A blue one.
Rebecca requested a silver convertible Mustang!  (As long as we are getting another car, might as well get a faster car than Uncle Paul's Camaro.)

The Buy-lines was a NYC newspaper that came out on Thursdays.  It listed cars and homes for sale.  I'll just assume the owners of that newspaper started Craigslist.
The Craigslist listing for cars and trucks is like reading the funny pages.  People must post their own cars just to see how much they might get.  No matter how many millions of miles are on one car, everyone puts "only" in front of that number.  Which usually looks like a phone number.

I read one ad that stated "Runs great.  Needs head gasket."  I truly hope he was drunk-typing.  I was tempted to call him to educate both of us, just a little, on human nature.

I drove pass a parked "For Sale'" Dodge 1500 on North Ocean Avenue.  I stopped and was quickly greeted by the owner who emerged from his dilapidated house.
Ian told me the truck is a V8.  And only has 130,00 miles on it.  He started it up.  
"Why is it so loud?"
"The guy I got it from put on a special muffler,  or something."
My keen sense could told he was never interested in car mechanics. (or personal hygiene)
He invited me to take a test drive and I accepted.  The front car seat was badly torn.
"Oh wait.  I forgot.  It has a ruptured brake line."
I'm through with this guy. - My Cousin Vinny.

Rebecca loves to drive!  And I have an alternate reason to cruise our neighborhood.  I explained my plan to her after she started driving. 
"What are we doing?"
"I'm practicing driving Daddy".
"No.  We are looking for a used pick up truck.  Got it?"
With a huge smile, she responded
"Got it"

When you are on a mission Stop signs are optional.   Curbs are imaginary.  School speed zones are irrelevant.  But I didn't tell Rebecca those things.  Those minor things usually work themselves out.

Then we passed a green Ford Ranger.  It was under a car port just two blocks from our house.  Someone pushed me out of the car and I walked up the driveway to ring the doorbell.  No answer.
I took some pictures and called the number.  A few phone calls later I met Chris.  He owned this vehicle for a long time.
It only has 239,000 miles on it.  The price was right and we now have a station car.