It's not the years, it's the mileage.
- Thread starter Walecs
- Start date
Walecs said:I tend to use this quote every year at my birthday, whenever someone gives me greetings.
But my question is, what does it exactly mean?I've never figured it out.
the key is in the line before it: You're not the man I knew 10 years ago.
Stoo
Well-known member
You gotta be kidding, Walecs. Like a machine, a man is not immortal.
---
Marion: "You're not the man I knew 10 years ago."
Indy: "It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage."
Keep a car parked & protected in a garage, run its engine every couple of months and then check out its condition in 10 years.
Run a car on the road almost every month for 10 years (accumulating lots & lots of mileage) and then check out its condition.
The results won't be the same.
P.S. By coincidence, posted 1 minute after Pale Horse
Like a machine, a man is not immortal.---
Marion: "You're not the man I knew 10 years ago."
Indy: "It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage."
Keep a car parked & protected in a garage, run its engine every couple of months and then check out its condition in 10 years.
Run a car on the road almost every month for 10 years (accumulating lots & lots of mileage) and then check out its condition.
The results won't be the same.
P.S. By coincidence, posted 1 minute after Pale Horse
Last edited:
Walecs
Active member
Stoo said:You gotta be kidding, Walecs.
---
Marion: "You're not the man I knew 10 years ago."
Indy: "It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage."
Keep a car parked & protected in a garage, run its engine every couple of months and then check out its condition in 10 years.
Run a car on the road almost every month for 10 years (accumulating lots & lots of mileage) and then check out its condition.
The results won't be the same.
P.S. By coincidence, posted 1 minute after Pale Horse
Oh, right, thank you. I don't know why I couldn't get it through all these years.
Goodeknight
New member
Speaking of mileage, the harshest environment I've personally experienced for vehicles was in Macha, Zambia. Remote village with heavy rains each year and dirt and sand roads. I was there during the dry season, but the annual rains left deep gulleys on the roads. Driving five miles took more than half an hour, and it was often like driving through a series of sand and red clay ditches.
You could feel each gully twisting the frame of the vehicle. The missionaries there (who ran a Christian boarding school) had replaced the windshield numerous times because it kept cracking from that constant twisting motion.
Between the sand in every part of the engine, and the repetitive twisting of the frame, the Landcruiser seemed like it was practically ready for the scrap heap. But it probably had less than 30,000 miles on it. It wasn't the years. It was the (hard) mileage.
You could feel each gully twisting the frame of the vehicle. The missionaries there (who ran a Christian boarding school) had replaced the windshield numerous times because it kept cracking from that constant twisting motion.
Between the sand in every part of the engine, and the repetitive twisting of the frame, the Landcruiser seemed like it was practically ready for the scrap heap. But it probably had less than 30,000 miles on it. It wasn't the years. It was the (hard) mileage.