9 similarities between teenaged cars and teenaged humans*

9 similarities between teenaged cars and teenaged humans* January 20, 2017

My oldest son is verging on adolescence, and I’ve noticed more and more similarities between him and my fifteen-year-old car. Which leads me to this list.

Old car
Original image by halfrain, Flickr, C.C.

You may have a teenaged car/child if:

1. You can’t get your car/teen started on cold mornings, and you keep finding lights inexplicably on at night.

You know the late-night lights are an energy drain, but even though you’ve taken every precaution, you still find auxiliary devices running at 2 a.m. Time to teach your child to drink caffeine! If only you could get your car to jump-start its own battery.

2. You notice constant, low-level grumbling noises.

Under the hood or under your pre-adolescent’s breath—it’s unintelligible either way, but the general tone is unimpressed.

3. The accelerator never seems to work properly when you’re in a real hurry to get moving.

If you’ve had to go three different directions on a busy morning and nothing seems to cooperate, you know what I mean.

4. You go through a worrying amount of fuel for the distance travelled each day.

Where does it all GO? How can something—or someone—that seems to spend so much time parked possibly need so much refuelling? Your gas and grocery budgets both expand at rates that seem unrelated to actual activity levels.

5. You worry that gaseous emissions might not be within—phew!—normal or approved levels.

 

6. You often hear the sound of air escaping when parked.

In adolescent humans, this is accompanied by an upward roll of the eyes.

7. You never know whether the warning signs you’re seeing mean you need to call in professionals or just change the oil.

Are those mood swings symptoms of something serious, or has it just been too long since the last meal? Is the check engine light on because of a misfire, or is your transmission failing? You wish every day for some kind of readout that would just tell you clearly what you need to do. Like a built-in diagnostic reader on the dash, or a big flashing sign on your child’s forehead.

8. You know a bumpy ride is part of the deal.

You’ve heard some real horror stories. So far, you seem to be doing OK, and even when the ride does get a little bumpy, you’re thankful this relationship is working as well as it is. It could be worse.

9. You say you’d gladly sell it to the first person to make an offer, but you secretly know that when you do actually have to part, it’ll probably break your heart.

You sink years of money, time, and effort in, and in the end you’re left with an empty space in the garage or at the table. No matter how long you have to prepare, I think it probably always feels like the end comes too soon, and you find yourself wishing you’d spent more time enjoying the time you had.

Sigh.

On the bright(?) side, unlike your junkyard-destined car, there’s always a chance your adult child will move back home again at some point!

* Similarities are merely superficial. Children are people, even the teenaged ones; cars are not people, even the really quirky ones. Please do not attempt having your teenager’s oil changed. Regular maintenance of both cars and teens is recommended. Characterization of adolescents herein is drawn from broad generalisations and not meant to reflect on any actual named individuals—at least that’s what I’m telling my 12 year old.

**Hello, Patheos! This is my first post here on my nice, new Patheos blog. Thanks to Sam Rocha of the Patheos Catholic Channel for inviting me over, and to Hillary and the other nice folks at Patheos technical support for getting me set up with such a bright shiny new header and layout. And thank you, whoever you are, for reading this. I hope to post frequently while I get my feet under me here in the new digs and find my voice and my audience; please check in often and drop in a comment to let me know how I’m doing!


Browse Our Archives