When Aibo came out of that crash sporting a new rear bumper and rear deck spoiler, people were amazed that he looked much better than ever. Unfortunately things weren't so rosy on the inside. One day while hosing down Aibo's dirt, I had noticed the water from the hose seeping into the same rear bumper everybody adored. Sure enough, when I dismantled the rear interior trim panels, I spotted a few rust spots on the welds. When Butch's crew took a closer look, they found even more rust around the lower lip of the rear hatch.
Fast-forward to today.
My dad had spotted me wrenching away at Aibo's misaligned tie-down cargo hooks this morning and asked me about the particulars of the repair job I'd just had done. He figured out the rust was due to last year's Friday the 13th crash. Afterward, he told me that once a car figures in an accident, I should be prepared to sell it. He repeated his advice: Don't fall in love with your car. Treat it as you would a pair of jeans. If even crash-free cars sprout rust, Papa said, what fate awaits those that have had a bus-sized suppository rammed up their rears?
Unfortunately I'll have to be stubborn on this one.
In the back of my mind, I had already decided that Aibo would figure in my life as my car for at least seven more years. I don't want to replace his GD1 Jazz frame with a brand-new GE6 Jazz; I was never as smitten by the GE's Joan Rivers-style stretched facelift looks as I was with the lovably cute GD, and it's just not enough of an improvement anyway. He is also my ongoing lesson in becoming an adept DIY mechanic, having had so many parts installed to it with dust and grime on my hands and sweat all over my brows and shirts. And have I not already mentioned that Aibo was my very first trackday experience?
Couple that with a shaky, uncertain post-recession future and my preference to prioritize housing over a new car, and the decision to keep Aibo, rust, body filler, warts and all, is a no-brainer.
Sorry Papa. I already own my dream car, and I want to run it till I have a family of my own.