Where’s My Horse?
May 5th, 2010
That’s it. Cars are overrated. I wish to return to the days of traveling everywhere on horseback. A few weeks ago, my “Service Engine Soon” light came on and I just got around to having the car looked at earlier this week. It wasn’t a huge deal — something about coils and plugs and a sensor. It wasn’t a cheap fix, but periodic repairs come with the territory of car ownership. Fine.
I got the car back yesterday evening. And then, today, on my commute home, my vehicle sort of imploded.
It started with the air conditioner not working right. Irritating, but no biggie. Then, all of a sudden, smack in the middle of rush hour traffic, some sort of alarming light came on in the dash, my heat gauge red-lined, and steam started billowing from my hood.
ACCCCCKKKKKKK! Abort! Abort!
I pulled over in a parking lot, killed the car, and consulted the manual. Dire warnings filled the pages — Your Car Could Blow Up! Don’t Drive! Doom!
Ironically, I landed about a quarter mile away from our dealer and mechanic, but given said Dire Warnings, I wasn’t keen on continuing my journey. I contemplated a tow truck, but ultimately just wiled away an hour in a conveniently-located Wendy’s, then fired up my car and crept to the mechanic’s, cursing the traffic and stop lights in my way and nervously watching the heat gauge inch further and further to the right.
I have no idea what’s wrong. I really don’t get cars. I just know they cost a lot to fix when they break. I’d like a horse for Christmas, please.