Reunited with Ironhide
It was a homecoming long overdue. Our venerable, trusty and dependable Ironhide was finally heading home after almost 2 months in sick bay. He was gone for a long time and is now fully-rehabilitated. Happy days are here again.
Did I mention that Ironhide is our maroon family van (Lite-Ace)? Guess you already knew that from watching too much cartoons (thus Transformers rings a bell to you?) during your kiddie years. Still confused? The name was given by a brod in reference to the Transformer character, a red van called Ironhide. The nickname/nom de guerre has stuck ever since
A bit of history and nostalgia first. Ironhide came to our lives circa 1996. All of us were giddy and excited when we first laid eyes on him; our first family vehicle, spanking new and reeking of factory-fresh plastic and upholstery. We have officially joined the ranks of the emerging middle class – a home in a subdivision with a parked automobile in the garage.
Fast forward 9 years later and the van has pretty much been a big part of our lives through all the good and the bad. An indispensable and highly dependable family member who will always be a faithful road warrior and companion.
Since none of use didn’t know how to drive yet at that time, we resorted to hiring drivers (mostly distant relatives) to shuttle us during our daily commute. Navigating through SLEX was a hellish experience back then as it was still under completion. Four hours of commute going to Manila was a daily dose of gridlock mayhem. We never seemed to mind however as we felt secure and comfy inside Ironhide’s embracing confines.
Months passed when I decided to learn how to tame the beast that was Ironhide. Good thing our driver (a relative who became a good buddy) was more than eager to teach us the rudiments of driving. All 3 of us boys would take turns practicing during the weekends. We took him for awkward and sputtering spins inside the wide roads of our subdivision and the outskirts. I can still distinctly remember my first 100+kph moment along the roads leading to Southwoods. Michael Schumacher, here I come.
FVR gracefully bowed out, the actor popularly known as Erap became Prez and I meanwhile, was about to have my non-pro driver’s license. Finally, I was a legit driver and the road to nowhere was just there beckoning to be explored. Ironhide and moi was a perfect fit from the start. I was the adventurous, devil-may-care, vagabond type, he, the trusty automobile that will take me to unknown territories and numerous escapades.
This newfound mobility turned out to be both a blessing and a slight curse.
Gone were the days of commuting and enduring the accompanying hassles and hardships. However, I was forced to assume the role of family driver for financial and practical reasons. Driving my parents and sibling to their parties, appointments, gimmicks, and whathaveyou’s become part and parcel of my routine. During idle days, I had Ironhide to myself and wanton joyrides became commonplace.
Our family had countless trips and journeys aboard Ironhide. No destination was too far and no road impassable for Ironhide. Samar (thrice), Baguio, Ilocos Sur, Leyete, Batangas, Pampanga, the list seems straight out of that Eheads song, “Overdrive”. During those sojourns, we were very fortunate and blessed not to have been involved in any road mishaps. All we had to worry about was where to eat next or to take a leak. Ironhide was a steadfast and trustworthy chariot of steel.
Those long drives must have taken a big toll on him. He gave out on some of those trips and major repairs became recurrent. His body suffered welts, scars and bruises, a far cry from his spanking and shiny look of yesteryears. A plastic surgery of enormous proportions was badly needed.
So we took him in for a total-body surgery that had been a long time coming. For almost two months he was confined to the “auto spa”, soaking in the fresh coat of paint and enduring the hammering that would straighten out his once well-toned body. I knew he’d come out of it like a man reborn, ready to take on the roads again. Indeed, he was a sight to behold when they were done with him. Sporting fresh sets of mags and glistening body paint, he was a sight to behold once more.
Unfortunately, this total-body makeover was just a tantalizing prelude to the misfortunes that would come. Ironhide suffered a “stroke” (radiator overheat) in San Fernando, Pampanga. It was a rainy Sunday night, an inappropriate time to find an auto repair stall. Fortunately, we chanced upon one and they turned out to be helpful and well-meaning folks. (I decided to spend the night and stayed in a motel but that’s another story altogether). 2 days passed and the mechanics said he was fit for the roads again.
And so I thought. A roadtrip with my college buddies to Jalajala, Rizal proved to be the final straw. Our journey was punctuated by countless (about 30+) stops to replenish his dehydrated radiator. Not quite exactly one of our more memorable roadtrips. He was spewing water and coughing up smoke that was eerily reminiscent of a volcano about to explode. We still managed to drive him home but it was clear that he was in badly need of an engine overhaul or a radical “multi-organ” transplant (engine replacement).
We decided to go with the transplant as the chief mechanic told it was the cheaper and quicker alternative. Alas, the few weeks soon turned into 2 months. But it would soon turned out be worth the wait. I received the call to pick-up my old buddy and the giddiness and excitement of before were back. Pure and unadulterated déjà vu. (cue in “Reunited” by Peaches and Herbs here). I arrived at the shop around 9pm and I saw here sitting there like a lion waiting to be unleashed in the urban jungle.
I started the engine and revved him up for old time’s sake. He was like an old chap who took the elixir of youth. Yup, he still got them power and vitality in those trusty old legs. A new engine really works wonder. If he was human, it would be equivalent to having a new heart, lungs and liver.
It was a homecoming long overdue. I was back in my favorite spot on earth – the driver’s seat. Completely oblivious to the gridlock along EDSA, smoking my Marlboro reds and contemplating the roadtrips ahead; it was a cathartic experience having Ironhide in action. Happy days are definitely here again…
