First of all, let me apologize in advance if the following sounds a bit, well, severe. It’s had all morning to bake in my head until it was golden brown and ready to be served…
I woke up this morning and turned on the news as usual. What did I see?
IT’S SNOWING!! Yes, goddamn it, it’s snowing already. It’s not even Thanksgiving! You know what that means? It means winter is here. I hate winter. I hate the cold with a passion normally reserved for war criminals and Ravens fans. There I was standing out at the bus stop freezing my balls off and thinking about winter. And when I think about winter I don’t think about snowmen and Christmas carols and spiced apple-cider. I think about my car.
Oh shit.
You’ve probably read my previous diatribe: I’m Scared of My Car, right? If not, go ahead and check it out, I’ll wait.
Now this car thing is getting ri-goddamn-diculous. I’m a geek. That means that I “get” machines. Technology and I are good friends. I understand how systems work within other systems to drill holes or make coffee or microwave oatmeal. But I’ve never had less faith in a machine than I have in my car. Logic be damned, I think the car hates me.
From the buying experience through the most recent rear suspension replacement, I’ve held a quiet fantasy that perhaps one day I’ll buy a new car and these problems will go away. There’s bad juju in this car. Maybe it was used to run somebody down? Or it was owned by terrorists? I don’t know. But there’s bad karma (car-ma?) there.
Bad juju? Spirits? C’mon… It’s got to be something else. Maybe it’s the fact that every winter, just before the holidays, I have some kind of car repair I wasn’t planning on, (Tires, battery, muffler strap) sucking the Xmas money out of my wallet. Maybe it’s because the last time it was in for major service (rear suspension) the morons at Firestone told me that I also needed a “throttle-body cleaning”. What the hell are you talking about? The throttle body is fine. The throttle body is under the hood. I’m having problems with the ass end of the car. Nothing is wrong under the hood!!
It’s this kind of “let’s see how stupid the customer is” service that makes me dread any new sounds or smells or dashboard lights in my car. If something goes wrong, can I afford not to fix it? I’d never in a thousand years go back to Saturn for service, and now I have to keep my eyes on the guys at Firestone.
I’ve often tried to think my way through this obsession, and I’ve asked myself “What is the worst that can happen?” “What the hell am I so afraid of?” Do I think that a light will come on in the car, and soon after the car will explode? No. Do I think that I’ll be stranded on the highway somewhere with my family and left there to die? Well… no. Do I think that I’ll take the car in for an estimate on the latest “mystery problem” and be told that it will require more money than I have? Forcing me to abandon the car in the service station parking lot and my family to take the bus for the rest of our lives? Maybe.
I guess it’s the money. There’s never enough money to fix things before they break (I should check the brakes). Just like you never get a superb sale on something when you really need it. I want a car-guy. I want a friend who “knows all about cars” and can tell me what I really need to do and leave out all the bullshit. I want somebody who’s looking out for my best interest.
As long as I’m wishing I may as well wish for spring.
It’s gonna be a long winter.