My head hurts from all this wall-banging

The Crapillac did not pass inspection. Great. Just great.

I need two new headlamp assemblies because the adjustors are bad and the headlamps are shaking around in the buckets like cafeteria jello. It's highly unlikely the adjustors can be found on their own.

I found a place in Chicago that will sell the assemblies and ship them to me for $129 each. My father-in-law may have found the parts cheaper on eBay; we'll see.

Funny enough, one of the head mechanics where I got the car inspected worked at the Cadillac factory at the time the Catera came out. Apparently they all called it the "Caterrible." He said it's a tank of a car and quite safe (which is the main reason we bought it), but the issues you don't see on the surface will drive you nuts. He proceeded to rattle off a distressing list of things that can and probably will go wrong with this car during my course of ownership.

It's times like this when I wish I was a kid again, with no money and virtually no responsibilities. Or at the very least, in college and surrounded by friends, intelligent conversation and loads of New Castle Brown Ale. But we've all got to deal with these things, and somehow realize they are minor bumps in the road.

Bottom line: if driving the car won't kill us, we'll keep it and drive it until it dies. It is safe, and I feel fine putting Kimberly and Richard in there and driving long distances. Sure, I'm a car guy and I wish it had a lot more power and a lot more luxury ($35,000 new and no CD player or sunroof? Criminies!), but our money has to go elsewhere now, and this Cadillac will do fine for now.

I'm hoping if I stop calling it the Crapillac, it'll stop malfunctioning and being a headache factory. Nice car, niiiiiiiiiice caaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr, coochie coochie coo.

I promise I'll write my big introductory blog sometime soon.