ODE TO ‘SENTY’
The aptly named George Driver waxes lyrical about his 1996 Nissan Sentra, underscoring the Kiwi love affair with cars.
My car’s fan has two settings: off and full blast. The passenger seat is covered in coffee and Marmite stains from four years of breakfast mishaps during my previous life as an Auckland commuter. The stereo has become dislodged and disappears when I try to change the radio station or tweak the volume – for at least a year, it was jammed in place with a knife and fork.
The car screeches every time I turn left. The petrol pump has been replaced, twice. The alternator has been replaced once. In fact, so much is effectively new that it is always a surprise when I go for a warrant and another part has failed. And yet, I cannot bear to part with it.
I bought my 1996 Nissan Sentra – my first car – for $1500 from the Clyde garage in 2013. We have now shared eight years and 114,000km together – which is only a third of its total mileage so far – and it has taken me around the country three times. I’ve slept in it. I’ve dined in it. I have taken it on camping trips for months at a time. We share more fond memories than any of my other possessions.
I am not alone. New Zealanders hold on to their cars longer than almost any other developed nation. According to Waka Kotahi NZ Transport Agency (NZTA), the average light passenger vehicle was 14.5 years old in 2019, older than Australia (10.6 years), Europe (11.5), the US (11.9) and Canada (9.7). And the agency says 1990s imports are to blame. In a recent report it noted that “the persistence in the fleet of used imports made in the 90s is a key factor for the old light fleet”. According to another NZTA report, 1996 – the year of my Sentra – was something of a high-water mark for Japanese imports. We have 50,000 more vehicles of that year than any other from that decade. NZTA says these vehicles also “have a remarkable survivability”. They won’t die.
“I decided to drive my Sentra to death. I don’t claim it was a rational decision – love is not always rational.”
So what should we do with our ageing fleet as we attempt to transition to emissions-free vehicles: is it better to send them to the scrapheap or drive them to death? The Climate Change Commission says we should focus on improving the efficiency of the 300,000 cars we import each year, rather than scrapping old cars early.
At first, I decided to drive my Sentra to death. I don’t claim it was a rational decision – love is not always rational – and mostly I was focused on just keeping it alive as long as possible.
Last year, I took it to the garage to check on the graunching noise that I had tried to ignore every time I hit the brakes. It was also probably worth investigating why I was now topping up the radiator every few weeks.
The prognosis was terminal. “I think it’s time to get rid of it,” my mechanic said, with a pained expression on his face.
It came in one of my darkest hours. The pandemic had almost killed off my freelance-writing career and pushed house prices out of reach. In the post-lockdown wreckage of my life, losing my most valued possession put me at a low ebb.
The first stage was denial. Denial turned to bargaining. Bargaining turned me to Google and multiple calls to mechanically minded friends and acquaintances.
The radiator, I discovered, could be mended with an $80 potion, which seemed to primarily consist of glue and glitter. It worked like magic and it hasn’t leaked since. But replacing the brake pads and rotors nearly broke me. Finally getting that fresh warrant and saving Senty felt like one of my greatest achievements.
The biggest threat to our relationship, however, came just weeks later. My partner became pregnant. As we made arrangements for our new family, the fate of the Sentra – with its non-functional rear windows and onestar safety rating – was, again, bleak.
We bought a sufficiently safe Japanese import straight off the boat. Although already nine years old, the Subaru feels like a newborn baby and has taken a prime spot in the driveway.
I tried to convince myself that we needed two cars, but as we both work from home that need has never arisen. So now, like at least 127,000 others, I have an ageing vehicle that, although requiring regular maintenance, refuses to die.
I’m again faced with the question: scrap or sell. It is probably too old to sell (and I have probably sabotaged my chances of that now). But its sentimental value is massive and I can’t bring myself to send a mostly functional vehicle to the scrap heap.
The Sentra is now in purgatory, relegated to the backyard. Yes, I am one of those people now. Leaves are collecting on the bonnet, where they slowly compost to dirt and fill the car’s air intake to be redistributed like confetti the next time I use the fan. Grass is growing higher around its slowly deflating tyres. Without a regular run, the battery is dead.
I just hold on to the hope that we will get one last summer drive together. After that I am, reluctantly, open to offers. l
“Finally getting that fresh warrant and saving Senty felt like one of my greatest achievements.”