Papers Please. Or Not.

By Jim Hagarty
2013

For the first time ever, my 2002 Chevy Cavalier failed its Drive Clean test, a pollution exam cars in my part of Canada have to undergo every two years. From the moment I got the bad news, my Fret Machine went into overdrive. The technician didn’t know what was wrong with the emissions equipment on the car and would need $120 to run a test. Then another $450 to fix whatever was wrong.

And if it failed its re-test after all that? Well, we’d start all over and see what else we could find to fix.

This worried me the same way it would freak me out if my doctor told me he’d just keep removing my organs till he found the one that was defective. So I waited for my regular – and 100 per cent trustworthy – mechanic to return from holidays and took the car in to have him deal with the problem. I put my head on his shoulder and sobbed a while and then he said, “There, there” and told me he could find out what was wrong and make sure it passed the test. Because without a pass, the car could not be licensed.

He was busy, having been on holidays, so I told him there was no rush; I just wanted the car to pass. Ten days passed with the car in the shop and almost every minute of those days, my Worry Meter was set to Full Throttle. Would it cost thousands or was it even fixable? This car is too young to die and I am too old to walk everywhere.

Finally, came the call. “Passed with flying colours,” said my man. Faulty pump: $200. Perfect. I had my little piece of paper and that’s all I wanted.

I rushed on over to the licence office and proudly marched on up to the counter, grinning like a teenager after his first kiss. Filled out the form to renew my licence and guess what? The woman who served me never even asked to see my Drive Clean report. NEVER EVEN ASKED!!!!

I’m glad the environment is happy with my cleaner car and I’m happy to be able to drive the darned thing for two more years but she never even looked at my report. I guess the air outside my car was nice and clean as I drove home but the air inside was blue as heck. No test needed to figure out why that was.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.