The End Of An Error

The Grand Am is no more. I would like to inform you that I piloted it directly into a brick wall and leaped valiantly from the flaming wreckage, but alas that would be a lie. I merely sold it. I sold it for some mad cash moniez.

Previously mentioned mad cash moniez.

This is what my wallet always looks like.

Now my previous statement should leave you thinking I hated my first car. I suppose I did, too. But I suppose I loved it at the same time. It was aggravating, but it was exhilarating. A worthless piece of junk, but a pretty nice car. It was also a massive drain of time and money, but so is any hobby.

If I had to do it again I would leave this car sitting on the car lot for some other poor fool to deal with. There are any number of better cars I could have had for the same money. The list of problems I had with this car in the two years I had it is longer than it should have been for a lifetime.

The electrics were faulty and the battery used to drain itself every few days.

The stereo would not work, so I had to wire my own stereo system throughout the car.

The transmission would not shift properly due to faulty wiring at the computer side of the intake air temperature sensor.

I had to buy a new body control module at one point, and I don't even remember why.

There was no dipstick on the transmission fluid because GM decided a "sealed system" was a good idea. Let's just say it was not.

I had to change the transmission fluid at one point, which involved dropping the entire transmission pan, while it was full, ~7 liters of fluid.

The original exhaust would not come off without a saw.

The new exhaust manifold ended up being a three day project, it should have taken one.

There was an unexplainable clicking noise in the cabin every time the car started which would eventually go away.

Even when I was not driving the car I paid more in insurance than my father does for his AMG.

And even now after the car is out of my hands the check engine light is on, one or both O2 sensors are crap, or no longer communicating with the computer.

Cheaper to insure than an '03 Grand Am.

The back of the exhaust manifold.

Engine bay, front exhaust manifold.

The problem now is you all know why I hated my car, but why I loved it is not quantifiable. Maybe in part it is because it was the first car I bought for myself. Maybe it is the blood and sweat I put into it, or the permenant scars I received from it. But more than that it was just fun. It was fun to drive, it was fun to look at, to work on, to talk about. Every one of those oh so aggravating problems was a project for me to figure out and fix. I've always liked cars, but I have learned more from owning an awful, and fully typical, example of GM "engineering" than I ever did from reading about the best cars in the world.

In short: I am glad it's gone, but I'm not upset that it was here. So, a fond and yet resentful farewell to the GranDizzle.