The Camry Wagon's Last Ride

I knew I was pushing it when, after getting the news from my mechanic on Thursday morning that our 21 year-old Toyota Camry station wagon needed a new motor, I took it out on Saturday night and then again today. Since our trip south from Maine, it had been deteriorating, trudging from zero to traffic-speed like a stubborn slug, garnering horns and choice hand gestures from other drivers (note to self: Connecticutians are jerks). More recently, the car's acceleration had diminished nearly altogether, to the point where hazard lights were necessary (this happened while we were in Pittsburgh, but we were starting from a stop light at a significant incline). When I was about 1/4 mile from my folks' house, chugging up a slight hill, she petered out completely. I started her back up, and we inched to the top where we could turn and coast the rest of the way to my parents' street, at which point I'd be able to push it, if need be. Fortunately, the need did not be, but I put away the keys once and for all, vowing not to try it again. Her life is over.
Now I'm back in the car market again. I've become all too familiar with the craigslist automobile searches over the last three years. It seems like my years in Maine have been jinxed with bad car fortune; since moving there I've been through the ringer, plowing my way through five cars (soon to be six) like a kid devouring candy after a night of trick-or-treating - maybe worse. There was my beloved and reliable 2000 Civic, followed by The Lemon To Beat All Lemons, the 1994 WV Jetta, the sleeper hit 1994 purple Civic, the backup '88 VW Quantum, and the newly-deceased. That's too many cars, if you ask me. Now that I have a little bit more time to scour the market, and a higher budget with which to work, I'm treading carefully rather than settling on the first $1,200 car I find that runs. Beater cars may be good enough for Rob and me, but not Buggy. That said, I'm currently looking at 10-years-or-newer Honda CR-Vs, or maybe a Subaru or Volvo station wagon. I do have to say, the thought of driving a car that doesn't make me listen to make sure vital parts aren't dropping out on the highway makes me squirm with delight. Olive deserves it.