adventures in driving
Remember my car having some problems before I left for Chicago? They came back again in December, so I took my car to Goodyear to get a diagnostic. For $89.00, the mechanics found nothing wrong with the Taurus, and shut off the engine/emissions light. I was told should I get any further problems with the starter and/or the engine light coming on again, to bring it in. Luckily the problem was solved... or so I thought.
A week later, a blustery cold night, I began heading to work when, pulling out of the driveway, my door swayed open. Climbing Beechmont Hill, I shut the door twice to no avail. At the top of the hill, I came to the stop light and opened and shut my door - things looked to be in the clear. Half way down Sutton Ave., my door began to creep open again; twice I closed the thing without success. Now, facing Coney Island at the three way stop, I shut my door to the delight of a "click", so I proceeded to I-275.
Heading towards the bridge into Kentucky, the door opened once more. Time was of the essence, if I pulled over I figured I still would not have success at closing the door. So, with either a brave heart or human ignorance, I drove the next 10 minutes down 275; my left hand holding the door closed and my right arm wrapped tightly around the wheel, while the locking mechanism clicked over and over again. I entered the doors of the Drawbridge with the arms of Popeye. The following morning, I WD-40'd the locks and solved the problem... I'm the man. ?
Forward to Christmas Eve, another really cold night. I went out to start my car a few minutes before work, and came back to a silent motor with the engine light on. I started the car again to a whiney noise that subsided on the way to work, most likely a belt. I could not afford to rent a car, nor could I get assisitance in getting a ride (per my hours). The next few days were driven in doubt. After the New Year, I went back to Goodyear and had another diagnostic done. "We started it cold run and saw no problems... then we heard some squealing", said the mechanic... it wasn't coming form the belts, it was coming from the transmission. They insisted it had to be taken to a dealership where they can accurately specify the issue... not something my pocketbook or I wanted to hear.
Next day off, I dropped off the Taurus at Beechmont Ford. Mid afternoon they called to tell me the situation in the tongue of mechanics. Luckily, it was not the transmission, but the PCV tubing. It was leaking and had to be replaced. The EGR and the cam synchronizer had to be tuned per the AB sensor assist and the BA thingy, and the synchronizer had a faulty what's it going to the EGR, that was affecting the DPFE whatever... uhhhhhhhhh... okay. $771.73 later, my Taurus was ready.
This is the part I don't get. Over the past seventeen years of dealing with the public on the phone, my voice has and continues to be mistaken ((occasionally)) for that of a woman. A little frustrating, but I accept it - no biggie. However, when I went to pick up my car at Beechmont Ford, the attendant who brought my car around, looked directly at me, handed the key over and said... "here are your keys, mam." (a brief pause) "Oh. I mean sir, sorry."
Is it my hair? Is it something I ate? Do I stand different? Am I THAT gay? I may never know.
coming soon: more critter contemplations
A week later, a blustery cold night, I began heading to work when, pulling out of the driveway, my door swayed open. Climbing Beechmont Hill, I shut the door twice to no avail. At the top of the hill, I came to the stop light and opened and shut my door - things looked to be in the clear. Half way down Sutton Ave., my door began to creep open again; twice I closed the thing without success. Now, facing Coney Island at the three way stop, I shut my door to the delight of a "click", so I proceeded to I-275.
Heading towards the bridge into Kentucky, the door opened once more. Time was of the essence, if I pulled over I figured I still would not have success at closing the door. So, with either a brave heart or human ignorance, I drove the next 10 minutes down 275; my left hand holding the door closed and my right arm wrapped tightly around the wheel, while the locking mechanism clicked over and over again. I entered the doors of the Drawbridge with the arms of Popeye. The following morning, I WD-40'd the locks and solved the problem... I'm the man. ?
Forward to Christmas Eve, another really cold night. I went out to start my car a few minutes before work, and came back to a silent motor with the engine light on. I started the car again to a whiney noise that subsided on the way to work, most likely a belt. I could not afford to rent a car, nor could I get assisitance in getting a ride (per my hours). The next few days were driven in doubt. After the New Year, I went back to Goodyear and had another diagnostic done. "We started it cold run and saw no problems... then we heard some squealing", said the mechanic... it wasn't coming form the belts, it was coming from the transmission. They insisted it had to be taken to a dealership where they can accurately specify the issue... not something my pocketbook or I wanted to hear.
Next day off, I dropped off the Taurus at Beechmont Ford. Mid afternoon they called to tell me the situation in the tongue of mechanics. Luckily, it was not the transmission, but the PCV tubing. It was leaking and had to be replaced. The EGR and the cam synchronizer had to be tuned per the AB sensor assist and the BA thingy, and the synchronizer had a faulty what's it going to the EGR, that was affecting the DPFE whatever... uhhhhhhhhh... okay. $771.73 later, my Taurus was ready.
This is the part I don't get. Over the past seventeen years of dealing with the public on the phone, my voice has and continues to be mistaken ((occasionally)) for that of a woman. A little frustrating, but I accept it - no biggie. However, when I went to pick up my car at Beechmont Ford, the attendant who brought my car around, looked directly at me, handed the key over and said... "here are your keys, mam." (a brief pause) "Oh. I mean sir, sorry."
Is it my hair? Is it something I ate? Do I stand different? Am I THAT gay? I may never know.
coming soon: more critter contemplations