My car, which has been misbehaving in an undiagnosable way (as in mechanic was stumped) for several weeks now, had settled into a pattern of reliably hiccuping but never actually stopping. No check engine lights were on. No dreadful sounds were heard. I figured I had time to: 1) watch for other troubling signs and get thee to a mechanic and/or 2) explore my replacement car options.
JT and I took to bringing along sneakers and a book for all of our travels. Things were fine. Or fine'ish.
Until yesterday morning, circa 7:10 am, as we were leaving the house early to score a bagel for breakfast. The car refused to start, then started but wouldn't really go anywhere. And suddenly two dashboard lights were flashing, as if to suggest something along the lines of "girl, you are so fucked now." We grabbed a ride to school with a friend who lives in town. Then we spent some time yesterday getting the car to the mechanic for what turned out to be the ultimate diagnosis of $600 spark plug coil/ignition blowout.
The repair is proceeding. We weren't left stranded by the side of the road and instead spent an extra few minutes on the front porch on a beautiful May morning. And once again, let me note that it's very nice to have friends who are so willing to help. In fact, our blessings are too numerous to calculate and we know that well. Add in a sense of humor and we're doing just fine.
Very fine indeed.
Ouch. $600 is a lot of cash. It brings back memories of my first car (1989 Ford Escort) that ran out of power steering fluid pretty much every day. I had a supply of refills in the hatchback at all times. But that was back in the day when cars weren't so complicated, and normal folks could at least tinker with the oil and such on their cars. Now they all have computerized this and power that.
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