Just after typing yesterday's entry, I got my car back from the shop following another (groan) $400 repair.
For those who think I know nothing about cars, you are almost correct. However, I did know enough at the time of purchase to try looking up the car's history on the Carfax website. Lo and behold, nothing there. So I had every reason to believe that everything under the hood was a mystery to me and everyone else.
The heater core & thermostat had to be replaced. The heater core in the car had melted away because it was PLASTIC. Why anyone would install anything other than metal parts into heat-producing elements is beyond me, but at least the car was now up to code.
Now this is where I submit my formal application for "Zen-master". Either that, or a lifetime supply of duct tape to close my mouth with. I asked the repairman if anything else looked bad under the hood, and he said no. I casually remarked that with the amount of repairs I've put into it lately, "the transmission might be the next thing to go, knowing my luck."
Bingo.
Thank goodness I left for work way early today to do a test run on the car. From the word go, the steering was giving me problems. All of a sudden, all hell broke loose while on the freeway. Shades of that LeBaron I had which blew the engine pistons out on I-94. I was fortunate to find a rest stop on I-275 to stop the car at. The wheel would barely turn left.
Upon backing out of the space to ginger the car home, I heard something being pulverized, followed by the smell of burnt plastic. It took both hands to place the transmission into park. Forty dollars and one cab ride later, I was back at work, throwing things around the room in a spurt of rage.
Why am I so stupid as to spend more money on a cash cow? I guess I wasn't raised as well as I gave myself credit for. My first impression, however, is that another repair shop hosed me. Until I took the car to them yesterday morning, I had no steering problems, and no problems with the transmission. They only occurred after I brought the car home.
This is either the most blatant case of coincidence known to mankind, or they did a number on me.
And "knowing my luck" as I am apt to say, I can say my ability to predict things is a little too uncanny these days. Just not uncanny enough to hide my increasing stupidity as far as getting along with motorized vehicles!
