My 1994 VW Golf III just rolled over to 150,000 miles. The milestone is arbitrary, of course, as it doesn’t feel any different at 150,014 miles than it did at 149,127 miles, but it is a milestone nevertheless.
A car that turns 150,000 miles may be on the verge of falling apart, or it might be settling in for that long run to 200,000 and beyond. Even for a car in fundamentally decent shape, however, you can’t have run that many miles without some wear and tear. There are some uncomfortable analogies to a person hitting one of those birthdays that end in a zero (click on the table to enlarge):
I should be honest about my car. It’s functional (for the most part), tolerably efficient and affordable. I got it used, so it already had a history before we came together. After all these years, I’m used to it. In truth, I don’t really like it very much, but I can’t get a different one any time soon. So, I put up with its idiosyncrasies, accommodate its shortcomings and arrange my life to fit its limitations. Sometimes I ask too much of it, and it fails me.
For all these reasons, this car is not like a friend to me, but rather like a member of my family. You can pick your friends, but you are stuck with your relatives.
Is there anyone who loves their car? Would be happy to see it run for another 100,000 miles?