Sometimes I wish I lived in a big city. A place where public transportation could easily take me where I needed to go. But I don’t. I live in Akron, where public transportation seems to exist only as a last resort. On top of that, I commute to work. This means that public transportation is wickedly impractical (as in it would take more time to get to and from work than I would actually spend working). So, like most in this area, I own a car.
Most of the time, I LOVE owning a car. It offers a certain sense of freedom. As horrible as it is for the environment, I fully admit that there are times I love nothing more than climbing behind the wheel and just heading out to cruise around, clear my head and occasionally see and find things I didn’t previously know about. As great as that freedom is, sometimes, owning a car is just bullshit.
This weekend was one of those “bullshit” times.
For a while now my car has been leaking…something, and making a funny noise when I make a turn. I looked under the hood and the only fluid that was even slightly low was the power steering fluid. I figured this was good news as power steering isn’t something that will either A) kill the engine if it goes out, or B) make the car not drivable. It wasn’t great news, but I figured it was far better than some of the alternatives (read – OMG please please please don’t be the transmission.) I also figured, since it was the fluid that controls the steering this was probably also the cause of the noise.
A little voice in the back of my head told me I was being delusional, but I decided to tell that voice to go fuck itself. Until that is the little voice was validated by my dad (who knows more about cars than anyone else I know). According to him, that noise could be a lot of things…few of which are good none of which should be ignored.
Sigh, time to head to the mechanic. NEVER a good thing. Even when there is nothing wrong and your just dropping the car off for basic upkeep stuff, it still sucks royal. When something is actually wrong it doubly sucks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I had a trustworthy mechanic I knew I could take my car to. One who would tell me what is wrong and the cheapest possible way to fix it. Not one who tells me everything little thing that COULD be wrong and basically wants to strip it down and rebuild the whole damn thing (Midas).
My usual plan of action in these situations is to take it to a place like Midas (because they do free inspections) then take their list of insanity to my dad (who knows about cars) and ask him what on that list ACTUALLY needs to be fixed or repaired. I try to prepare myself for worst case scenario, because with cars that is usually the way it goes.
Saturday morning I did just that. And the news was not at all what I was expecting. The leak…not power steering. My car was leaking oil from the plug. Not a big deal really. Plugs go bad…and are cheap and easy to fix. Midas wanted almost $70 to replace the plug and give my car an oil change cause you can’t do one without the other. Now, I don’t know what kind of magical unicorn horn plug they were planning on using but that quote is just criminal. Thankfully my hero had taken me out to breakfast while Midas was doing it’s thing and was sitting with me when I got the news. He laughed and said we can go buy the stuff to do all that for $20 and fix it that afternoon. Like I said, hero.
But that leads me to the real reason I was having them look at my car in the first place. That funny noise coming from the wheels when I was making turns. Obviously it was totally unrelated to the power steering leak, as there was no power steering fluid leak. Nor was it the CV joint, which is what I was fearing it would be. Nope, it was the axle. Which according to Midas was completely blown. Again, this is Midas so who the hell knows how bad it really is. Either way, a bad axle is nothing to eff around with. Especially when you spend an hour a day on the highway. Bad news bears is what it was.
But, first things first. That cursed oil leak. Normally this kinda thing isn’t all that big a deal, but when the plug is so worn you can spin it by hand really bad things could happen. Again, nothing to ignore. So off me and my hero went to do the quick fix of putting in a new one. Aside from having to make two trips to find the cheap oil and a place to buy the plug it was going pretty smoothly. That is until it was time to put in the new plug.
More bad news. It wasn’t the plug. The oil pan itself had been stripped. Ffffffuuuuuu – igures. This could only mean one thing. The last people to change my oil had over tightened it and sent me on my way without fixing it or even notifying me it had happened. Way to go Valvoline. Awesome.
In the midst of all this my mom had been calling for updates and reminding me of other things I was supposed to have done but had put off. When I told her there was more bad news all she could think was “enough, it’s time to buy a new car”. Back and forth we went about this and that and buying a new car not being an option. I know she meant well and was only trying to make things easier/better for me. Her heart was in the right place. At that moment it just pushed me to that breaking point. Trying to figure out what to do with the problems in front of me that I had no idea how to fix, and convincing her that a new car wasn’t an option (wishing more than anything that it was) I snapped. In that moment I just crumbled. It was bad. And totally unnecessary. But it happens. I’m no good at having too many questions and not enough answers. But I pulled myself together. My hero patched up my car with a temporary fix and got it drivable. Dad said he could fix the oil pan the next day. It was all going to be fine.
But something irked me. That something was Valvoline. They charge an assload of money to do a reasonably easy job. If anyone should be fixing this mess it should be them. So Sunday morning I gave them a call, and as expected they pretty much told me to piss off. The dude listed a few possible explanations that would make this not their doing, all of which were bullshit. I called him on his bullshit and made it known I wasn’t going to shut up about this. He said all he could do was start an investigation report and let me know what the find in the next few days. Not helpful. I said I would be fixing my car by then and even though they wouldn’t pay for someone else repairing it I was still going to see it through and at the very least expect them to cough up an apology. I did this with a lot of very colorful language. A few hours later the manager called back to ask me a few more questions…I lost it. I was beyond irritated. He finally caved and asked me to bring the car in to see what they could do. In the end they fixed it that afternoon and were very apologetic (without actually admitting fault). But whatever…FINALLY something went right and at least one of my problems was fixed.
I came home content that things were turning around and realizing more and more that these little minor set backs in life that while irritating aren’t really worth spending too much time fussing about. A realization that extends far beyond just car trouble and emotional meltdowns. In the long run it all works out. You just do what you have to do to get over the little hurdles along the way and only give them as much time and attention as they absolutely require.
As I was relishing my new found calm and resolve to just do what had to be done and not stress or think about it all that much when I heard a noise. A somewhat welcomed noise. It sounded like rain. I love rain, so I walked over to the window to check it out. Nothing. All quiet outside. Hmmm. Odd, I definitely heard rain. It was raining in my bathroom. And a bit in my kitchen. I had to laugh. I mean really, wtf. It was the perfect “ffffuuuuhhh” to end the weekend. On the plus side, whatever was causing it to rain wasn’t my problem. That is one of the small benefits to renting. I got on the horn to my landlord and got to laying out some towels. He called back a few minutes later and told me the peeps in the apartment above mine had overflowed their toilet and it took them a while to get it to stop. Yup, it was raining nasty toilet water in my apartment. Oddly, I still just had to laugh. It was gross and not something I WANTED to deal with…but ultimately not a big deal. The rain stopped, the clean up commenced. Either my epiphany to not sweat the small stuff really had sunk in or I was just all tapped out of the ability to give a shit. Either way, I found it more funny than anything else.
Today I get to deal with the remaining problem of my busted axle. I found a local mechanic who came in with a reasonable quote for the repair. The shop is right down the road from me and has been around for 50 years. This is great on so many levels. One, they are a local small biz and I’m always in favor of supporting them over big corporate chains. And two, it’s walking distance from my apartment! This means I can drop it off and walk home while it is being fixed. HUGE plus in my book.
Yeah so, to make a short story long, I guess what I learned from all this is that shit is going to happen. You can make a big deal of it or choose to just muster through as best you can without letting it get to you. Obviously this is easier said than done, and I’m sure that there will be some shit in my future that causes me to sweat. That too is unavoidable I imagine. That is life. But for now I’m glad I’ve calmed down and seen the situation for what it is. No big effing deal. A minor inconvenience that will be history in the very near future.
PS – my poor neighbor was SO embarrassed and overly sorry about the minor plumbing mishap. I felt bad, but all I could say was “no worries, shit happens.” This did not make her less embarrassed. People are so weird about this stuff. (Myself included.)
It made my nails look like they were painted with a highlighter. But I’m kinda glad I picked it after lopping off all my nails. I don’t think this much bright would work with really long nails. Also, it turns out matte finish polish looks weird on toes. What is fun and funky on fingers jut looks busted and old on toes. Nothing a top coat can’t fix.
