My Car

Yesterday, I set out for the store to pick up some pork chops for dimer. I made it exactly three blocks.

Block one: going up the hill, my two-year old car which just had its regularly scheduled maintenance two months ago "slips" a little, like Ive hit an ice patch. Hmmm....probably not since it's sixty degrees. An oil slick??? Maybe. Oh, well, no biggie. Must get chops.

Block two: Uh oh, another oil slick? Had a tanker run aground in my suburban neighborhood? This time, it takes a second or two longer for the car to "catch" again, plus the little warning light on my dashboard blinks on and off. I'm begimning to suspect that something is not right here.

Maybe I pushed some button or hit some switch when I got into the car. Maybe it was like the time last year when I bumped the gear shift with my purse and put the car into manual shift mode. There I was driving down the street, engine revving like crazy and not really getting anywhere, cursing a blue streak. I made it halfway to the service center and had perfected a scathing monologue before I realized what I had done. I didn't even know the car had that option! Oh, well, live and learn.

So, gritting my teeth(when did it become necessary to have an advanced engineering degree to operate a car?) I pull over and examine the dashboard, hoping it will tell me what's wrong, but it is being coy. I talk soothingly and pat the dash encouragingly, telling the story of the little engine that could. I put the car in park, turn off the radio and rev the engine. I'm not sure what I'm listening for, but I've seen other people do this, and it seems to help. Yep, it sounds like a car allright.

Having exhausted my vast store of mechanical knowledge, I cross my fingers and proceed to block three. Slip, catch, thump, thump, thump. Warning lights flash frantically. I coast to a stop even though my foot is firmly pressing down on the gas. Something is definitely not right here. Maybe I didn't tell the little engine story correctly.

Suddenly, with a jerk, I shoot forward, hurtling toward the bumper of the car in front of me. Enough. Clearly, we were not meant to have pork chops for dinner. I briefly consider popping the hood and taking a look underneath, but I might break a nail and my day is going bad enough as it is. No sense piling one tragedy on top of another. Admitting defeat, I turn around and head back home, which, fortunately is downhill most of the way.

Several phone calls and a tow truck ride later, my car is at the shop and I am driving a loaner. ( A black PT cruiser, or Herman Munstermobile, as I like to call it). My service manager genially assured me that I would have my car back in no time, but the mechanic standing behind him, shaking his head and making faces didn't seem to back this up. Nor did the guy at the car rental counter who told me that he sees several other car owners on a regular basis. Maybe I can get invited to their weekly get-together. I'll bring the pork chops.