a simpler way of life

In the Sixth Grade, as part of the Social Studies curriculum, my classmates and I studied the Medieval Times. We learned about their fashion, their food, their music, their occupations. We were introduced to the concept of bartering, and even set up a bartering activity in our cafeteria.

Each student was to bring in a product to barter. Some made friendship bracelets, some mix tapes, some baked goods, you get the idea. We then set out to trade our goods with other goods that we may need or want.

The idea of this was to mimic the art of bartering. When used in it's true sense (not a pink-and-purple-friendship-bracelet-for-a-brownie-kind-of-way) people would barter eggs for hay, chickens for new shoes, a horse for a new roof. You get the idea.

People had specialties. You went to the baker for your bread. You went to the cobbler for your shoes. You went to the tailor for your clothes. You learned a trade and you shared that trade with others.

Enter the mechanic. I harbor both jealousy and ill-will toward the mechanic. Jealousy, because I know nothing about cars. While car maintenance isn't a dying art form, it's certainly a mystifying one. You either know it or you don't.

Growing up, my dad used to change the oil in all of the cars himself. Once a month he'd pull out the orange lifts, have one of us drive on to them (and not off, as I did once...), and dutifully change the oil. Beyond that, we Johnsons know nothing.

I harbor my ill-will at mechanics because it is my thought that they take advantage of their clients. Their knowledgeless clients who need their services.

Now, new cars are often made without needing much maintenance other than oil changes, tire and brake stuff. In the nearly 10 years I've owned my Jetta, I have put little to no effort into its care (I'm sorry, Jackie Jetta for neglecting you).

So when Jackie started to overheat on the freeway the past week or so, I took her into the shop. She needed an oil change anyway, so I thought that the mechanic should take a look under her hood.

Firstly, what cost my father pennies (really, the price of a new oil filter and a quart of oil) costs upwards of $20 for an oil change. Rip off.

Secondly, the cost for someone to open my hood, stick a computer to something under the hood and push a button: $86. And that's just to tell me if there's something wrong. There's a chance there won't be (Editor's Note: there was).

Thirdly, why is labor SO expensive? One of the multitude of things Jackie requires done to her is a new tie rod (whatever that is). In a quick google search, the cost of a tie rod is just under $100, and I found a few for $50ish. Cost at mechanics for new Tie Rod? $300. Are they fashioning me a brand-new, custom tie rod out of silk and gold? I think not.

If we were bartering people, I'd whip up a chocolate cake and hand it over to the mechanic, all for their labor. Certainly that's an even trade!!

Why bring this up, dear reader? Because Jackie Jetta is on her last legs. If I go through with the slew of things she needs done, it will cost me about $2500, which is essentially the cost of one year's car payments.

I've narrowed it down to another Jetta. She's a beaut. It's just a numbers game from here...

And, with my new VW, I get 3 years of free maintenance. Thank you VW, thank you.