Here We Go Again

I was rummaging through the console of Pee-Tah’s car on my way to work and called him to ask, “Is this a tooth in your car?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”

I don’t know about you guys, but I want to know the story.


No, I wasn't kidding

No, I wasn’t kidding

Oh. You want to know why I was driving Pee-Tah’s car. Right. Because this.




This is my sad, forlorn, pitiful wreck of a car sitting at the mechanic’s shop waiting for a new alternator.

Oh. You want to know why I have to have a new alternator when I just got one last year? Yeah, me too.

Before I bought my Sonata, I drove a used Isuzu Rodeo until it had 240,000 miles on it. The belt squealed every time I turned it on and the gas pedal would get gummy and stick in the rev position until you reached down and yanked it back into non-rev mode, but it never gave me this much trouble. That Rodeo set the bar for all other vehicles – how long and how far I should be able to drive one. This Sonata only has 150,000 miles on it and is being a baby about it, quite frankly. I’d give it a swift kick to the tires but I’m afraid that will just anger it further and it will retaliate by dropping the entire undercarriage on the freeway.

I suppose the good news here is that I’m pretty adept at diagnosing a problem with my car. I’ve had nearly all of the traditional car problems so I’m recognizing the signs. I was getting an oil change when the alternator made its final hurrah. I flicked on the windshield wipers and noticed they were slow so I asked the guys at the shop to check the voltage (I knew the right terminology and everything!), and then had to ask for a jump when it wouldn’t start. On the way over to the mechanic’s, my car backfired, bucked, revved and then de-revved, flashed lights and generally acted like an asshole, much to my humiliation.  I like attention but not that kind.

Pee-Tah asked me later, “You knew it was the alternator before anyone told you, didn’t you?” Yeah, I did, and I’m inordinately sad that I did. I never wanted to be a mechanic. I never wanted to know so much about cars. That was never my dream.

Other car stories here, here, here, here, and here.  Oh, and here. And also a weensy one here.


5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Felix
    Aug 18, 2015 @ 18:00:13



  2. Bootsie
    Aug 18, 2015 @ 18:13:35

    Yes, what about the tooth?


  3. Martie
    Aug 19, 2015 @ 15:10:25

    Heller, the tooth?


  4. Love, Jimmie
    Aug 19, 2015 @ 16:18:42

    I know, you guys! Pee-tah is being all coy about that story. I think we are going to have to work for it if we want it.


  5. Anna
    Aug 28, 2015 @ 09:58:37

    Looks like a dog tooth. I named my car, The Red Menace (maybe you have to be over 55 to find it funny…). The Red Menace has been acting up, bucking at turns and just generally being pissy. So I got about a block from home on Tuesday, and the check engine light came on. Turned right around, took the Plaidman’s car took work and had him take the Menace to Firestone. They put it on the diagnostic computer, and found that the gas cap wasn’t closed….after the last time Plaidman fueled up the chariot. I gave him a few choice words. Find my 250 Workday Outfits Challenge on my blog!


Leave a Reply to Love, Jimmie Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: