On Thursday afternoon, I noticed the power window switch was sticking a little, but the window was still functioning, so I didn't worry about it much. That night when I rolled the window down to open the garage door, the window initially wouldn't budge when I tried to roll it back up. I eventually got it closed, but I pulled the car into the garage and immediately made a very poor decision: I decided I'd roll the window down just a crack to see if it was still working. Sure enough, it wasn't.
The Malibu sat overnight with the window open about two inches. I was a little concerned about how Friday was going to play out--the forecast called for a snowstorm, and the car would be sitting outside all day. I pictured myself shoveling a snowdrift out of the front seats at the end of the day. Not to mention that driving down the highway with the window open--even a little--would certainly make for a very uncomfortable drive with temperatures below freezing.
Luckily, when I got into the car yesterday morning, the window budged a little more. It was still open, but the crack had narrowed significantly. I still left a towel on the driver's seat all day just in case, but the automobile gods apparently did me a favor after having mocked me for so many years, and the snow didn't start until after I returned home.
I dropped the Malibu off to have the window checked last night, and it didn't take long for them figure out that the power window switch had gone bad. A mere $20 covered the cost of having the mechanics check it out and return the window to it's full upright and locked position, but fixing the problem would cost over $200.
I decided to hold off on the repair, at least for now--after all, I probably won't be driving with the windows down for another six months when it finally warms up again. But the window has rendered the Malibu virtually useless for numerous situations--driving up at the bank, going through restaurant drive-thrus, sleeping in the car on winter road trips, and even opening the garage door at my apartment. So if you see someone standing outside, shivering near a tan Chevy Malibu at a fast food window or a bank, take a second look, because chances are it'll be me.
I'd like to say that the recent window debacle was one of only a few problems with the Malibu, but that's hardly the case. My stack of invoices from auto repair shops continues to grow, and I recently added up the total--in the past four years, the repair and service bills are pushing $6,300, not including oil changes. Granted, some of those repairs--new tires, realignment, etc.--are to be expected with an aging car, but $6,300 is an awfully high number for a car with less than 95,000 miles on in. Plus, that staggering total doesn't even take into account all of the unfixed problems plaguing the mighty Malibu.
The check engine light spends most of it's time glowing brighter than an expectant mother, the unfortunate side effect of a faulty catalytic converter, which would cost around $900 to repair. The Malibu apparently leaks oil like a defunct BP offshore rig, another problem with a $900 solution. And, of course, there's the recent $200 window issue. All that for a car with a Kelley Blue Book value under $2,000...and that assumes the Malibu is in excellent condition...which it very obviously is not.
Perhaps more frustrating of any of these other problems is the infamous "Theft System" issue, which first reared its ugly head in 2007. When the "Theft System" issue occurs, the engine won't turn over and a red "Theft System" light flashes for exactly ten minutes. The car won't start as long as the light is flashing, and when it stops, I get to try the key again. At that point the car will either start or the "Theft System" light will start blinking for another ten minutes, during which the engine once again will not start. So far, I've experienced several back-to-back Theft System delays, but never back-to-back-to-back delays.
After this happened to me a few times, I took the Malibu in for service, and several hundred dollars later, the mechanics claimed that they had "fixed" the problem. For over a year, I started the car without any Theft System delays, though I always wondered in the back of my mind whether the problem would return. Having Googled "Chevy Malibu Theft System problem," I knew that legions of unhappy Malibu owners had experienced the same symptoms with their cars, and not once had I read a complaint where the owner was able to find a mechanic who could permanently solve the problem.
As I feared, the "Theft System" delay returned in late 2008, then mysteriously went away again for over a year. About ten months ago, Mr. Theft System came back once again, leaving me sitting in my car, stranded for 10 to 20 minutes at a time, at least five or six times a week. I quickly learned two important lessons: (1) If I had something important scheduled and I couldn't afford to show up late, I needed to leave at least 20 minutes earlier than I otherwise would, and (2) time grinds to a virtual stand-still when you're sitting in a car, waiting for that *&#$% blinking light to go off. I always made sure to have some magazines laying around the car to help pass the time. Lucky for me, the Theft System problem returned to its dormant state before winter set in, but it's anyone's guess when it will strike again.
And finally, I reach the point of this pathetic tale: how on earth did the Chevy team who designed this monstrosity finally decide to name it "Malibu?" I've been driving this car for more than seven years and have yet to find a single similarity between one of the most beautiful, wealthy, and exclusive areas in the country and Chevy's sorry excuse for an automobile.
Ironically, if you drive through Malibu, California, there's a good chance that you won't find a single Chevy Malibu within ten miles of the city limits. General Motors should be liable for false advertising. If the design team felt obligated to name the car after an L.A. suburb, it would be far more appropriate if I was driving a Chevy Compton, or at best, a Chevy Van Nuys. Honestly, I really think they should have broadened their geography, because I can't think of a more deserving name than the Chevy East St. Louis.
If only it was possible to dig up an old transcript from the meeting where the geniuses at Chevy got together to brainstorm a name for this monster...I wouldn't be surprised to find a conversation that went something like this:
High school intern: "What do you guys think of this new model?"
Engineer 1: "This is the worst summer intern project ever--we'll be lucky if a single one of these cars makes it to 100,000 miles."
High school intern: "So you're not going to launch it?"
Engineer 1: "I didn't say that. Lucky for you, we don't have any quality standards."
Engineer 2: "What should we call this new model?"
Engineer 1: "Let's call it...the Malibu!"
Engineer 2: "Doesn't that seem a little misleading, what with the poor quality and all the design flaws?"
Engineer 1: "Who cares...with a name like Malibu, we could build this thing out of craft sticks, macaroni, and superglue and people would still buy it."
I find it odd that General Motors decided on such a grossly inaccurate name for this particular model, especially when their previous "Like a Rock" ad campaign for the Chevy brand was remarkably spot-on. When I think about large, awkward, immobile objects that remind me of rocks, the first image that comes to mind is my 1998 Chevy Malibu.
P.S.: You'll never find anything this entertaining on James's Africa blog. The closest thing you'll get to a transportation problem there is a story about an underfed pack mule or a flat tire on his Peace Corps-issued Huffy.
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