Will I Ever Learn?
One of my greatest frustrations in life would have to be car problems. I don’t know anything about cars; I don’t know how fix them; I don’t know how to diagnose them; I don’t know when I’m being ripped off, etc., etc.
Last Wednesday, I was on my trek between school and work when I noticed my “Check Engine” light was gleaming brightly at me. I groaned as dollar signs began to scroll in front of my eyes, not unlike that of a gambling machine. The car wasn’t behaving any differently normal, and I needed to make it to a chiropractor appointment so I decided to keep going and deal with it after I was done at the chiropractor.
After leaving the chiropractor’s office, I dug my cell phone out of my backpack and put a call to Dad. His recommendation was simply to check all fluids and belts and see if there were any visible problems. Because I needed gas anyway, I drove up the road to the gas station and filled my car while I checked all fluids that I knew to check. Oil seemed to be okay; transmission fluid seemed to be okay; wiper fluid seemed to be okay (alright, I know it’s not paramount to car operation but it was okay anyway); the coolant reservoir seemed to be quite dry.
I walked next door to the auto parts store and bought a gallon of coolant. Of course, I didn’t think to get a funnel while there, which posed quite a problem. I took aim and started pouring. I would have been okay except that the wind was blowing and about the time that I’d hit the hole, a gust of wind would come along and move the stream of coolant over about two inches. (I’m sure all the men there filling their own vehicles were rolling their eyes at this ignorant female.)
Once I figured I had enough coolant in that I wouldn’t overheat on my way home (if that was the problem), I closed things up and headed for home. Once there, I pulled into the garage where I was free from wind, found a funnel, and filled the reservoir the rest of the way up. I got into the car and started it up. “Check Engine” was still gleaming brightly.
“I’ve checked the engine!” I said sarcastically to my lemon, “Now go off!!” It didn’t work. I called the repair shop to see if they could take a look at it, but they said they wouldn’t be able to get to it until Friday. The head mechanic told me that it was probably a pollution sensor and that it wouldn’t hurt to keep driving it. So I did.
I took the car to the shop on Friday after I got back from class and, once again, borrowed Mom’s van to go to work. They called me later that afternoon to tell me it was the ERG valve and that it would likely cost $240 to fix it. What do I know about ERG valves?? Absolutely nothing! Do I know if $240 is a rip-off for fixing it? Absolutely not! Did I have any other options? Other than running the car off a cliff, probably not many.
I, inwardly grouchy, told the mechanic to go ahead and fix it. He said they didn’t have the part in stock and it would be Monday or Tuesday until they could fix it. I expect that once he got off the phone, he and his mechanic cronies probably had a good howling laugh…a “she fell for it” kind of laugh, just like we laugh at those people that fall for the “they make them drink latex paint thinner” line.
Since the weekend was upon me, it wasn’t as big a deal to do without my car for several days. I knew that Martin wouldn’t be using his vehicle on Monday and would probably be able to beg it off of him for a day or two.
At 4:45, I suddenly remembered my parking permit. If they kept the car inside the repair shop or in a fenced in lot, I would have no access to the permit to put in Martin’s vehicle because I would leave for school before they open on Monday. I quickly called the repair shop, hoping they hadn’t left early because it was Friday. I was in luck and arranged for them to park my car out where I could get my parking permit and other miscellaneous items from the car.
I had Mom stop and get the permit on Saturday morning when she passed by the lot. I tucked it into my purse, mentally giving myself a short lecture that the permit WOULD go on Martin’s rearview mirror before I left it in the parking lot at school. And not only would it be in Martin’s vehicle, I WOULD then transfer it back to my car before leaving Martin’s vehicle when I got my car back. I was quite pleased with myself as I remembered to put the permit in Martin’s in Monday morning first thing.
I was able to pick my car up yesterday after getting out of class. I parked Martin’s vehicle at the repair shop and left it there to be picked up after I got off work. Dad took me to pick it up later that evening. I parked it at Martin’s place and carefully cleaned all of my stuff out of it, trying to make sure that I took all of my trash with me.
This morning as I was entering the Bowling Green city limits, I looked in my rearview mirror at the vehicle behind me. I saw that the truck had a parking permit just like mine…THAT WAS CURRENTLY HANGING ON MARTIN’S REARVIEW MIRROR BACK IN FRANKLIN. Oh misery!! Oh despair! Oh sheer wretchedness!!
Kris was right in front of me so I grabbed my phone to call her and tell her that she’d have to pick me up and transport me to campus if I could figure out where to park. Just as I picked up my phone, it started to ring. Kris was calling to tell me to take one route to campus while she took another route to see which way was fastest. I quickly nixed that idea with my tale of woe.
I did remember that there is some curb parking right near my usual Monday/Wednesday/Friday parking lot. I had noticed it just the other day. I decided that I’d try to park there as opposed to parking across 5 lanes of traffic from the commuter/shuttle lot that was my initial option.
I was in luck. I was able to pull right up to the curb with no parallel parking. (I really dislike parallel parking.) I normally park in the parking structure on the other end of campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays because it’s closer to my classes for those days. As I watched people pull into my parking lot, I gazed longingly at their lovely yellow parking permits, my ticket to campus parking. I woefully bundled up for the longer walk across campus.
I stopped by Martin’s house on my way to work, determined that I would not go another day without that permit. I’m just grateful that I noticed it before parking and leaving my car to the ticket vultures. In the letter that I received excusing me from my first offense, I was told that they would only excuse me once for that offense. And I’ve got at least three more years of parking there. Will I ever learn?
Last Wednesday, I was on my trek between school and work when I noticed my “Check Engine” light was gleaming brightly at me. I groaned as dollar signs began to scroll in front of my eyes, not unlike that of a gambling machine. The car wasn’t behaving any differently normal, and I needed to make it to a chiropractor appointment so I decided to keep going and deal with it after I was done at the chiropractor.
After leaving the chiropractor’s office, I dug my cell phone out of my backpack and put a call to Dad. His recommendation was simply to check all fluids and belts and see if there were any visible problems. Because I needed gas anyway, I drove up the road to the gas station and filled my car while I checked all fluids that I knew to check. Oil seemed to be okay; transmission fluid seemed to be okay; wiper fluid seemed to be okay (alright, I know it’s not paramount to car operation but it was okay anyway); the coolant reservoir seemed to be quite dry.
I walked next door to the auto parts store and bought a gallon of coolant. Of course, I didn’t think to get a funnel while there, which posed quite a problem. I took aim and started pouring. I would have been okay except that the wind was blowing and about the time that I’d hit the hole, a gust of wind would come along and move the stream of coolant over about two inches. (I’m sure all the men there filling their own vehicles were rolling their eyes at this ignorant female.)
Once I figured I had enough coolant in that I wouldn’t overheat on my way home (if that was the problem), I closed things up and headed for home. Once there, I pulled into the garage where I was free from wind, found a funnel, and filled the reservoir the rest of the way up. I got into the car and started it up. “Check Engine” was still gleaming brightly.
“I’ve checked the engine!” I said sarcastically to my lemon, “Now go off!!” It didn’t work. I called the repair shop to see if they could take a look at it, but they said they wouldn’t be able to get to it until Friday. The head mechanic told me that it was probably a pollution sensor and that it wouldn’t hurt to keep driving it. So I did.
I took the car to the shop on Friday after I got back from class and, once again, borrowed Mom’s van to go to work. They called me later that afternoon to tell me it was the ERG valve and that it would likely cost $240 to fix it. What do I know about ERG valves?? Absolutely nothing! Do I know if $240 is a rip-off for fixing it? Absolutely not! Did I have any other options? Other than running the car off a cliff, probably not many.
I, inwardly grouchy, told the mechanic to go ahead and fix it. He said they didn’t have the part in stock and it would be Monday or Tuesday until they could fix it. I expect that once he got off the phone, he and his mechanic cronies probably had a good howling laugh…a “she fell for it” kind of laugh, just like we laugh at those people that fall for the “they make them drink latex paint thinner” line.
Since the weekend was upon me, it wasn’t as big a deal to do without my car for several days. I knew that Martin wouldn’t be using his vehicle on Monday and would probably be able to beg it off of him for a day or two.
At 4:45, I suddenly remembered my parking permit. If they kept the car inside the repair shop or in a fenced in lot, I would have no access to the permit to put in Martin’s vehicle because I would leave for school before they open on Monday. I quickly called the repair shop, hoping they hadn’t left early because it was Friday. I was in luck and arranged for them to park my car out where I could get my parking permit and other miscellaneous items from the car.
I had Mom stop and get the permit on Saturday morning when she passed by the lot. I tucked it into my purse, mentally giving myself a short lecture that the permit WOULD go on Martin’s rearview mirror before I left it in the parking lot at school. And not only would it be in Martin’s vehicle, I WOULD then transfer it back to my car before leaving Martin’s vehicle when I got my car back. I was quite pleased with myself as I remembered to put the permit in Martin’s in Monday morning first thing.
I was able to pick my car up yesterday after getting out of class. I parked Martin’s vehicle at the repair shop and left it there to be picked up after I got off work. Dad took me to pick it up later that evening. I parked it at Martin’s place and carefully cleaned all of my stuff out of it, trying to make sure that I took all of my trash with me.
This morning as I was entering the Bowling Green city limits, I looked in my rearview mirror at the vehicle behind me. I saw that the truck had a parking permit just like mine…THAT WAS CURRENTLY HANGING ON MARTIN’S REARVIEW MIRROR BACK IN FRANKLIN. Oh misery!! Oh despair! Oh sheer wretchedness!!
Kris was right in front of me so I grabbed my phone to call her and tell her that she’d have to pick me up and transport me to campus if I could figure out where to park. Just as I picked up my phone, it started to ring. Kris was calling to tell me to take one route to campus while she took another route to see which way was fastest. I quickly nixed that idea with my tale of woe.
I did remember that there is some curb parking right near my usual Monday/Wednesday/Friday parking lot. I had noticed it just the other day. I decided that I’d try to park there as opposed to parking across 5 lanes of traffic from the commuter/shuttle lot that was my initial option.
I was in luck. I was able to pull right up to the curb with no parallel parking. (I really dislike parallel parking.) I normally park in the parking structure on the other end of campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays because it’s closer to my classes for those days. As I watched people pull into my parking lot, I gazed longingly at their lovely yellow parking permits, my ticket to campus parking. I woefully bundled up for the longer walk across campus.
I stopped by Martin’s house on my way to work, determined that I would not go another day without that permit. I’m just grateful that I noticed it before parking and leaving my car to the ticket vultures. In the letter that I received excusing me from my first offense, I was told that they would only excuse me once for that offense. And I’ve got at least three more years of parking there. Will I ever learn?
posted by Sharon @ 9:04 PM
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