The good new first. The Volvo is fixed. Yes, between my brains and Kevin’s brawn, we managed to install a new heater blower for the old Ovlov and she’s running right as rain. No thanks to my parents. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Saturday morning we awoke with a mission. It was Fix-the-Volvo Day at the McLaughlin household. The weather was holding clear and we set up the tools, repair books, and coffee before getting to work. It took us about two hours to remove all the paneling, glovebox and random screws before we even got to the old motor. Some of the instructions talked about removing the radio and dashboard but it was looking like we weren’t going to have to do that. While we were deciding if we wanted to follow the instructions or just do what looked right, we realized we were missing a needed wrench so Kevin decided to take a quick trip to the hardware store. I decided to call my dad and seek his expert advice while Kevin was gone.

You see, during the shower valve replacement, we desperately needed some outside help and my dad, who is the quintessential handyman, was lying around on some remote beach in Hawaii unable to help us. This time, however, I got his itinerary. They were going down to San Diego and then heading up the Big Bear. They promised to have their cell phone with them so they could be reached as needed.

Let me point out this devious point – they promised to have their cell phone. Sneakily enough, they made no promise as to the workability of the cell phone. This may seem like a fine point, but it will become important later.

So first I tried my sister who told me they had left half and hour ago. “No problem” I thought, “I’ll just try their cell.” Sure enough after 3 rings, my mom picked up.

“Hi mommy! It’s Chrissie.” I began innocently enough.

“Oh, hi Chrissie, I don’t know how long I can talk, the battery is almost dead on our phone.”

Battery almost dead?!?! I quickly learned that my parents had decided to let their cell phone battery run down to get a full charge.

“Well, can you plug in the charger?” I asked with just a hint of panic.

“Um, I’m not sure where the charger is,” my mother replied, “I threw it somewhere in the backseat. Here, let me give you to your father.”

“Hi Chrissie, what’s up?” my dad answered.

“OK dad, here’s the deal. It looks like we can get to the motor without taking out the radio and dash like the instructions say. Should we go for it or following the instructions?” I asked, aware of each passing second.

“Oh, well, here’s what you should do. Be sure and …….”

Yep, you guessed it. That’s when the cell phone hit empty. I tried calling back a few times with no luck. We were on our own.

Now, some of you might ask, “Why Chrissie, why did your parents decided to let their battery run and not have a charger ready when they knew you would be calling for help?” That, my gentle readers, is the million dollar question. Why would they decided to drain their phone on the one day they knew I would be calling? Isn’t it strangely suspicious that my mother, the most prepared woman on earth, the same mother who carries a bottle of water and a pair of tennis shoes in the trunk of her car in case of emergency, would toss the charger willy-nilly into the backseat of the car? How could my father, who is constantly reminding us to check the oil and only use premium gas, heartlessly cut all communication during our time of crisis? I have no answers to these questions gentle reader.

As I stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded, listing to the voice recording at AT&T telling me the party I am trying to reach is currently unavailable, I realized it was up to me. That’s right, I was about to walk out onto the tight rope of auto mechanics without a safety net. My parents had cast me aside and I was going to have to face the harsh world of car repair alone.

I decided to throw caution to the wind. Tossing the instructions to the side, I instructed Kevin to leave the radio in place. We were going to do this my way. And we did.

Six hours later, the Volvo was blowing air like no tomorrow and my parents had recharged their phone and called back. The bums.

The moral of this story? Next time my parents tell me they’ll have their cell phone with them, I’ll be sure to ask if it will be charged.

I did, however, discover two awesome Volvo sites: the brickboard and a local company called ipd. And, we only had one screw left over when everything was finished. Not too shabby!

I love my Volvo. It’s a 1987, white, 740 model that’s been in my family since, well, 1987. You see, my parents bought the Ovlov when I was still in grade school. It was the first new car we had bought since moving to California from Texas. I learned to drive on that Volvo. It dropped me off at school and dances, took me shopping with mom, and to my boyfriend’s house during the summer. Since our other vehicle was a truck that only fit two, the Volvo was our main mode of transportation. When my parents decided it was time for a new car, they went back to the Volvo dealer last year and shipped the old Ovlov to me and Kevin.

Of course, I didn’t always love the Volvo. I attended a private school set in the affluent hills of Palos Verdes. My mom worked at the school so we got a break in tuition. I remember when my friends began to turn sixteen, driving became the rage. Everyone seemed to be getting these little red sports cars – CRX, Preludes, Integras. When I turned sixteen, I got to drive the Volvo. I think I was the only person who had to borrow the family car to go anywhere. Either that or bum a ride. It seemed everyone else had their own set of wheels. I didn’t really mind it back then. Since everyone had a car it was easy enough to find someone willing to pick me up. I was the ultimate passenger person.

I remember after Heather got her license, she came to pick me up for the first time. I think I was her first passenger. Before hopping into her car, my mom requested that Heather pass another driving test. Only this time, my mom was sitting in the front seat while Heather drove her around our block. I guess she didn’t run any stop signs because my mom let me take off with her. Heather was always really cool about picking me up to go places and she never minded swinging by my house.

But in high school, the Volvo just wasn’t cool. I always felt a little strange pulling up in my four-door squeaking family car. Everyone else would hop into their little new cars are race off while I was left behind. Lets just say 740 Volvos aren’t known for their rapid acceleration. On the flip side, I never got pulled over for speeding either and my mom felt very safe knowing if there was a crash, I was in the old safety box car.

But now, I have a new found respect for the Volvo. Now, I am the envy on my friends. The Volvo, with its leather seating and seat warmers, is a favorite. Four doors with plenty of head and leg room, we find ourselves preferring the old Volvo to my little Civic. Sure, it doesn’t go as fast but you don’t have to contort yourself to get in or out of it either. And Kevin, in particular, has fallen in love with the Volvo. He even has a special pair of sunglasses he keeps in the car because he thinks he looks cool wearing them and driving the Ovlov. And the compliments! People just love the old 740.

It’s been the perfect car so far but the other day, the heater fan stopped working. After our plumbing triumph, we are going to try and fix it ourselves this weekend. But this time, we have my dad’s cell phone number just in case we need advise from an expert.

I can’t imagine not having that car and sometimes, late at night on a long road trip, as I nod off to sleep in the passenger seat, I can almost see my dad driving next to me and my sister asleep in the back seat just like always.