Cars Are Not My Bag, Baby
I had to take my car to the shop today. The check engine light has been on for a while, and it finally began having trouble starting. At this point, I knew I had to take it in to see what was wrong. I couldn’t drive it anymore without being scared of breaking down on the side of the road and getting kidnapped or killed by a hitchhiker. I imagined the hitchhiker taking everything I had on me, selling my car for parts, and smoking all my cigarettes.
So I broke down and called around several places to see what it could possibly be. No one would give me a straight answer. Each place I called wanted me to come in immediately so they could hook it up to a machine and "diagnose" it. Apparently it could be “one of a hundred things” but they wouldn’t know until they got it in their shop. Just the visit to get the diagnosis would cost somewhere around a hundred dollars, but because I love my car and with the fear of being murdered setting in, I chose the Toyota dealership closest to my work and made an appointment.
I showed up a little early, hoping they would be ready to see me immediately. There was a wait, as usual, and I sat there for an hour while my precious little baby underwent various tests and procedures. I tried to concentrate on the library book I had brought, but couldn’t seem to distract myself from the worrying. Was it something serious? Or was it just a routine maintenance item? How much would it cost? Could they take care of it today or would I have to make another appointment?
Jeremy, (“The Doc” as I like to call him), then called me out of the waiting area and into a private room to reveal the results. He indicated for me to have a seat and shut the door slowly behind him. Taking the chair opposite of me, he leaned in, elbows on his knees, and began.
“Well, there’s a couple of things wrong. When was the last time you had your timing and drive belts changed? How about your seals? Your rear brakes need to be changed…they’re down to less than five percent. And the reason for the check engine light is the oxygen sensor.”
Seals? Timing belts and drive belts? What the heck are those? And how would I know when they’re supposed to be changed? My brakes are down to five percent? What does that mean? And does the oxygen sensor mean that I won’t be able to breathe in my car?
My mind began racing. I started feeling lightheaded and my stomach began doing nervous flips…over and over. I suddenly thought I was in the doctor’s office. The Doc sitting across from me, telling me something was wrong. It was fixable, but it all needed to be taken care of immediately, or else it could get worse.
He said they could give me a loan car…do I get it fixed now? What is the most important thing? Do they all have to be done immediately? What if I wait a while? Will my car instantaneously blow up as I’m driving down the road? How much does it cost? Can I smoke in the loan car? Why do I feel sick?
After talking with The Doc, I decided to call my dad and see what he thought. Attempting not to get emotional about it, I described the problems and what The Doc had suggested. He sensed the nervousness in my voice and fortunately he offered to help me out with the repairs. Dad suggested that getting it taken care of immediately is the best way to go, especially since they’ll give me a loan car. I went back in to The Doc and explained that I would go ahead with the repairs.
He kindly assisted me through the loan car process. I wondered if he could sense my fear or my feeling of inadequacy when it comes to cars. How had I been allowed to drive a vehicle for eight years without knowing more about them? How could I not have realized that maybe my brakes needed to be changed, or that there were things under the hood that might need to be checked? This took me back to the time two months ago when I had attempted to be proactive and check my oil level…
I knew I was going to need an oil change soon, so I decided to check and make sure my oil level wasn’t low. I had seen people check their oil on TV before, and I had even watched my dad do it once a couple of years ago. It’s not hard. You pull the dipstick out, wipe it off with a paper towel, stick it back in, pull it back out and see where the level is. So I popped my hood, feeling like a pro, and went through the procedure. It actually was low, so I went into the garage and got a quart of oil to put in. I had seen other people use funnels to pour the oil in, but I couldn’t find one, so I just poured and poured…spilling oil all over my engine and the concrete driveway. But I did it! Amazing. I should have worked on cars all my life, I thought. Yet somehow…something just wasn’t right…
My dad came home, and upon hearing that I had checked my own oil, asked me to show him what I did. I took him out to my car, pointed out where I had checked the oil and put it in. With a puzzled look on his face and pointing at my car, he said, “That’s where you put the oil in?” I looked back at him, hand on hip, and said sarcastically, “Yeah, is that not the right place or something?”
Sure enough, I had actually put oil in the transmission fluid. It had SAID engine oil…what the hell do they mean by that if they don’t mean OIL? How is a person supposed to know the difference? I ended up getting my transmission lines flushed, and my oil changed before it caused any problems to the engine. How dumb did I feel?
The Doc now calling my attention back to the loan car process, I remembered why no one had taught me how to do anything maintenance-related to my car. There’s no need…I wouldn’t remember it correctly even if they did. The only things I really know how to do are put gas in the car and fill the wiper fluid. Oh and I forgot. I can start the car, too. That’s kind of important.
I was handed the keys to a brand new Toyota Camry and asked to sign some papers. I was also told that I couldn’t drive more than 150 miles a day, that I had to bring the car back filled up, and that I couldn’t smoke in it. (Damn.) So now I patiently wait for them to call me with the good news that my car is fixed, and the unsettling news of the cost. I actually do have to pay my parents back. But at least I’m at work making money to pay for it. I should probably get back to doing that right now. Especially since there’s a spider crawling across my computer screen that I have to kill.
Oh and PS: I just killed the spider. It’s my big accomplishment for the day. Do I get to go home now? I wonder if my car’s lonely without me in the garage…
So I broke down and called around several places to see what it could possibly be. No one would give me a straight answer. Each place I called wanted me to come in immediately so they could hook it up to a machine and "diagnose" it. Apparently it could be “one of a hundred things” but they wouldn’t know until they got it in their shop. Just the visit to get the diagnosis would cost somewhere around a hundred dollars, but because I love my car and with the fear of being murdered setting in, I chose the Toyota dealership closest to my work and made an appointment.
I showed up a little early, hoping they would be ready to see me immediately. There was a wait, as usual, and I sat there for an hour while my precious little baby underwent various tests and procedures. I tried to concentrate on the library book I had brought, but couldn’t seem to distract myself from the worrying. Was it something serious? Or was it just a routine maintenance item? How much would it cost? Could they take care of it today or would I have to make another appointment?
Jeremy, (“The Doc” as I like to call him), then called me out of the waiting area and into a private room to reveal the results. He indicated for me to have a seat and shut the door slowly behind him. Taking the chair opposite of me, he leaned in, elbows on his knees, and began.
“Well, there’s a couple of things wrong. When was the last time you had your timing and drive belts changed? How about your seals? Your rear brakes need to be changed…they’re down to less than five percent. And the reason for the check engine light is the oxygen sensor.”
Seals? Timing belts and drive belts? What the heck are those? And how would I know when they’re supposed to be changed? My brakes are down to five percent? What does that mean? And does the oxygen sensor mean that I won’t be able to breathe in my car?
My mind began racing. I started feeling lightheaded and my stomach began doing nervous flips…over and over. I suddenly thought I was in the doctor’s office. The Doc sitting across from me, telling me something was wrong. It was fixable, but it all needed to be taken care of immediately, or else it could get worse.
He said they could give me a loan car…do I get it fixed now? What is the most important thing? Do they all have to be done immediately? What if I wait a while? Will my car instantaneously blow up as I’m driving down the road? How much does it cost? Can I smoke in the loan car? Why do I feel sick?
After talking with The Doc, I decided to call my dad and see what he thought. Attempting not to get emotional about it, I described the problems and what The Doc had suggested. He sensed the nervousness in my voice and fortunately he offered to help me out with the repairs. Dad suggested that getting it taken care of immediately is the best way to go, especially since they’ll give me a loan car. I went back in to The Doc and explained that I would go ahead with the repairs.
He kindly assisted me through the loan car process. I wondered if he could sense my fear or my feeling of inadequacy when it comes to cars. How had I been allowed to drive a vehicle for eight years without knowing more about them? How could I not have realized that maybe my brakes needed to be changed, or that there were things under the hood that might need to be checked? This took me back to the time two months ago when I had attempted to be proactive and check my oil level…
I knew I was going to need an oil change soon, so I decided to check and make sure my oil level wasn’t low. I had seen people check their oil on TV before, and I had even watched my dad do it once a couple of years ago. It’s not hard. You pull the dipstick out, wipe it off with a paper towel, stick it back in, pull it back out and see where the level is. So I popped my hood, feeling like a pro, and went through the procedure. It actually was low, so I went into the garage and got a quart of oil to put in. I had seen other people use funnels to pour the oil in, but I couldn’t find one, so I just poured and poured…spilling oil all over my engine and the concrete driveway. But I did it! Amazing. I should have worked on cars all my life, I thought. Yet somehow…something just wasn’t right…
My dad came home, and upon hearing that I had checked my own oil, asked me to show him what I did. I took him out to my car, pointed out where I had checked the oil and put it in. With a puzzled look on his face and pointing at my car, he said, “That’s where you put the oil in?” I looked back at him, hand on hip, and said sarcastically, “Yeah, is that not the right place or something?”
Sure enough, I had actually put oil in the transmission fluid. It had SAID engine oil…what the hell do they mean by that if they don’t mean OIL? How is a person supposed to know the difference? I ended up getting my transmission lines flushed, and my oil changed before it caused any problems to the engine. How dumb did I feel?
The Doc now calling my attention back to the loan car process, I remembered why no one had taught me how to do anything maintenance-related to my car. There’s no need…I wouldn’t remember it correctly even if they did. The only things I really know how to do are put gas in the car and fill the wiper fluid. Oh and I forgot. I can start the car, too. That’s kind of important.
I was handed the keys to a brand new Toyota Camry and asked to sign some papers. I was also told that I couldn’t drive more than 150 miles a day, that I had to bring the car back filled up, and that I couldn’t smoke in it. (Damn.) So now I patiently wait for them to call me with the good news that my car is fixed, and the unsettling news of the cost. I actually do have to pay my parents back. But at least I’m at work making money to pay for it. I should probably get back to doing that right now. Especially since there’s a spider crawling across my computer screen that I have to kill.
Oh and PS: I just killed the spider. It’s my big accomplishment for the day. Do I get to go home now? I wonder if my car’s lonely without me in the garage…
posted by Christie & Ellie @ 7:51 AM
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