Xterra’s in the shop today.<\/p>\n
Well, not a shop, per se<\/i>. It’s under a shade-tree mechanic’s carport.<\/p>\n
Well, not a mechanic, per se<\/i>. He’s actually the guy who cuts my lawn.<\/p>\n
But he also buys old beater cars, restores, and sells them. So I’m figuring he knows what he’s doing. Works cheap, too. And one thing’s for sure: he’s not going to robotically tell me, “Well, the computer code says …” like the other two mechanics who’ve had their mitts on my precious transport.<\/p>\n
But I worry. The idle’s been getting rougher and rougher. Dying at stop signs sometimes. Then yesterday the Xterra added something new to its repertoire of troubles. It died while I was driving up the hill to my house. No coughs, no sputters, no jerks, no jolts, no fuss, no muss. The engine just shut off.<\/p>\n
Started right up again, but now I regard my transport with a jaundiced eye.<\/p>\n
I sent the mechanic off with the whole list of Commentariat recommendations, from checking for vacuum leaks and cleaning the mass air-flow sensor to changing spark plug wires. Added a few more based on yesterday’s problem and some StartPage research. Something wrong with the crankshaft position sensor? Clean the throttle body? Be sure<\/i> to doublecheck that mass air-flow sensor.<\/p>\n
He tolerates my lists. And me. Whether he heeds them, that’s another thing.<\/p>\n
I trust him. I tell myself that. I do.<\/p>\n
But the problems have been so intermittant that even if he brings it back running like … oh, a brand-new Tesla, I’ll still be nervous about what’ll happen tomorrow. Or the next day. Dying while cruising along the road doesn’t inspire confidence. You wouldn’t hurt me, Xterra, would you?<\/i><\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
April was a demanding month. Good, but very demanding. I started May with a vow of simplicity. I’d keep everything low-key and low cost.<\/p>\n
Fool. The gods just love<\/i> it when you make pledges like that.<\/p>\n
Along came the Xterra with its coughs and bumps. The broken ankle. New vet visits for every member of the fur family (including an emergency for the cat). I’m probably forgetting a few things. <\/p>\n
No big deals. Just a month of nuisances from start to finish. Everybody survived intact. I had a lot of help from my friends on everything from cars to the best way to heal that ankle.<\/p>\n
Still. <\/p>\n
I opened a fortune cookie the other day. It informed me I’d see a miracle. Very soon.<\/p>\n
I’ll settle for a nice, incredibly boring month, thank you.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
The ankle and the critters are doing great, BTW. And the mechanic just pulled into the driveway. So we shall see …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Xterra’s in the shop today. Well, not a shop, per se. It’s under a shade-tree mechanic’s carport. Well, not a mechanic, per se. He’s actually the guy who cuts my lawn. But he also buys old beater cars, restores, and sells them. So I’m figuring he knows what he’s doing. Works cheap, too. And one thing’s for sure: he’s not going to robotically tell me, “Well, the computer code says …” like the other two mechanics who’ve had their mitts on my precious transport. But I worry. The idle’s been getting rougher and rougher. Dying at stop signs sometimes. Then…<\/p>\n