That extra set of keys for my car, so I can actually get to my car and take it home after the Ford dealer closes, as has been arranged.
Yes, that’s right. My automotive karma has been very slowly turning bad, to the point where I should maybe consider not having a car at all. For like a year. Maybe two. So it’s a great idea that I’m driving to Indianapolis for my four-day Fall Break, am I right?
Am I right?!
Here’s what happened. Starting from maybe mid-August. We were driving outside of Cleveland, headed toward Rochester, and the car suddenly got no power. We pulled over on the side of I-90, were towed to a pretty great Ford dealer, where it turned out to be the fuel pump that had gone bad. Yeehaw, right?
Everything was fixed, though. Good as new. If anything, I will always own a Ford because of the service, yadda yadda.
So about three weeks ago, I’m driving along and all of a sudden the “check gas cap” light goes on. And I kind of go “what the hell” and check to be sure it’s closed (it is). The manual indicates that it’ll take a few cycles of gas before the thing goes off, I assume it’s just a fluke.
One week ago, I’m driving along and all of a sudden the “check engine” light goes on. I kind of go “omgwtf,” freak out, call my Dad who assures me it’s fine, could just be electrical or even random and not a real problem. I calm down but vow to take the car in first thing Monday morning. In the meantime I stop at a gas station to check my tire air pressure (sidenote: I found free air in Rochester! …or I guess, in Victor!) and decide that maybe the check gas cap thing will go away if I actually put gas in my car (it was down to a little less than 1/4 a tank). So I’m putting gas in my tank which only holds ten gallons and realize that for that original 1/4 gas in the tank, the thing should be full and have clicked off by this point. So I finish up, stroke my chin, and go “whatever.” Following this occurrence, I experience what I assume to be phantom gasoline smells emitting from the back (trunk of my car). I figure “oh, there’s a gas station across the street. Or four blocks away. Or whatever.”
Monday morning (7am) I took the car in. I detailed all of the car’s “sick symptoms.” Sure enough, I got a call back later in the afternoon, telling me that the belt and the pulley that holds the belt need replacing. Great. They do it, I pick it up, I can tell something is awesome-er. However, as it turns out, some kind of vapor is escaping from my gas tank and they can’t actually tell me what’s going on until the tank is down to 1/4. Uhhhhrg. Somehow, though, it doesn’t take much. Here’s to a 10 gallon gas tank. And I take the car back in this morning and wham-o. The o-ring on the tank was busted. The whole ordeal is very costly, as it turns out, but it is fixed and that’s what counts. Right?
But I’m going to Indianapolis tomorrow! Yay! And yeah. I’ve needed a break, if my random constant whining entries haven’t indicated as much.
So hooray for things.