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- @susanquinn did a great post on the vagaries of “winter” in Florida. Where I live in FL, we call people that live where Susan does “Northerners.”
I live in the Conch Republic (capital city: Margaritaville). My current, post-Irma abode is just over 100 miles from the southernmost point of the United States. We don’t “do” winter. Okay, maybe we hope for a couple of days in JAN or FEB where the temp only hovers at around 50-55 for a couple of days, but only so that it decrements the bug population in JUN, JUL, and AUG. My weather bug app says that, over the next 10 days, the lowest high will be 71. That day is an anomaly. Most days the high temp will be between 75 and 80. Last week, my super-cool-guy watch was telling me that temps were typically in the high 80s.
So, blizzards? Sleet? Snow? Arctic inversions?
Those climatic extremes are for all y’all who live in northern climes. Like, say, the Florida panhandle.
But, while frostbite will not be a concern, the requirement for air conditioning is year-round. The inside of my car, coming out of work today, was make-a-blue-tick-hound-pant hot.
A little over a month ago, I bought a car off of one of the dive instructor puppies next door. My eldest daughter (call sign: PROM QUEEN)’s vehicle had just given up the ghost, and Adam had a detailed list of the maintenance that he’d been deferring, knowing that he was going to sell the car. We struck a deal that I’d take the ’04 Subaru to my mechanic, who Adam knows and who I trust implicitly, and half the costs of the maintenance would be stricken from the price of the vehicle.
“So,” said Vic, the uber mechanic,”Is this car just going to be a little island hopper, or is it going to be a long-range, highways and byways type of vehicle?”
PQ has a lot going on, over the next coupla three months, so we dutifully reported to Vic that she would be traveling regularly between Gainesville, Del Ray, the Keys, and Ft. Myers.
Vic said, “Look, if it were my baby girl, I wouldn’t have her on the highways logging those kind of miles in that Subaru.”
I leaned up against the counter and put my head in my hands, knowing what was coming. “How would that vehicle do driving up to the base in Homestead every day?”
“Oh, no worries, there.”
Awesome. So I gave up my ’18 Nissan Altima and started driving the ’04 Subaru. Which is fine, but…
The air conditioning is whacked. It’s not even that it doesn’t work. Sometimes it straight up doesn’t work. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it’ll work for 10 or 15 minutes and then die. I hate inconsistency.
When I took it back to Vic, he and his boys determined that the problem was the electromagnetic clutch on the compressor; it’s bad and needs to be replaced. As I stated, I trust Vic implicitly. He could’ve told me I need a new transmogrifier or that my dilithium crystals were depleted. Doesn’t matter. Vic’s word is automotive law.
So every time I get in the car to go to work, the temperature is in the high 70s to high 80s. When I get in the car to drive home from work, the car has been marinating in high 80s heat all day. It’s not really a problem. If I drive into work and get swamp butt from no AC, I can shower and change clothes right there. If I drive from work and get swamp butt from no AC, who cares?
It does kind of bug me, though, that having all the windows down, moving at speed, disrupts the even burn of the fine, Cuban-seed, Dominican-grown cigar that I like to enjoy during my end-of-the-day commute. Eh, First World problems.
Prom Queen was packing up the Altima for one of her myriad trips, and I told her that I hope she appreciated that I was giving up my car to square her away.
She patted my shoulder.
“Our car. It’s our car.”Published in