Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Send this girl to camp
Steve Gilliard is asking for money again. On the one hand, I've always thought it was unseemly for a perfectly employable adult to beg for money from strangers. On the other hand, I've always wondered if I could get away with it.
So don't send your money, of which I'm sure you all have LOTS, to Steve Gilliard. Send it to ME. 'Cause I need it more than he does. I need to get my car AC fixed - scratch that, I need a new car. The way I figure, if you, my readers, chip in I'll be able to buy a new car which will ultimately benefit this blog in ways that I should not have to explain so I won't insult your intelligence by doing so. Anyway, if each of the four of you were to send me, say, a mere $2,500.00 apiece, I'll take care of the difference and get something perfectly suitable.
Seriously, the car AC IS broken. And it sucks. I've been resisting doing anything with it, because I've got to get a new car sooner rather than later, but today it was 105 degrees and I couldn't take it anymore. I took it to my longtime mechanic. After pumping $130 worth of freon into it, he determined there was something wrong with either the compressor or some evaporator valve or the evaporator, or all three. He wrote his diagnosis on my ticket:
"NOISEY COMPRESSOR"
"RESTRICTED VALVE AT EVAPORATOR"
"LRAICACIL FRUIR EVAPORATOR ARUP?"
His writing is kinda hard to read. It looks like Cyrillic.
Anyway, the cost to fix it would be "astronomical," in his words. Certainly it would be in relation to the value of the car, which is a '95 Saturn with 186,000 miles on it.
This mechanic, Mike, has been telling me for the last, oh, 100,000 miles that I need to start looking for a new car. When the Saturn hit about 85,000 miles he started telling me, "The Sat-turns don't have much longevity. My other Sat-turn customers aren't getting much more than 100,000 miles out of their Sat-turns."
"OK," I said. Bummer, I thought.
Around about 120,000 miles or so, Mike told me, "You just can't expect to get 150,000 miles out of most cars." I said, "Why not?"
At about 160,000 miles, I started getting the impression that Mike was kinda pissed that my car was still running. "You've done well with your Sat-turn," Mike said, grudgingly, "but you can't expect to get many more miles out of it." "I'm shooting for 200," I told him.
Today, I said to Mike, "It's got 186,000 miles on it. You didn't think I could do it, didja?"
"You've certainly proved me wrong," Mike said.
"See! I was PROVED FUCKING RIGHT!" I shouted. OK, I didn't.
As much as I'd like to shoot for 250,000 miles with the Sat-turn, just to see Mike's head explode, I suppose it IS time I start looking seriously for a new car. All I know is that I want a small car that gets great gas mileage. I love small cars (I like big cars, too, as long as I don't have to drive them). I love being able to park in nooks and crevices where SUV's fear to tread. Though if we have another couple of days like this one, I'll take anything I can get.
The way oil prices are going, I may be able to get someone to GIVE me a Hummer . . .
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Steve Gilliard is asking for money again. On the one hand, I've always thought it was unseemly for a perfectly employable adult to beg for money from strangers. On the other hand, I've always wondered if I could get away with it.
So don't send your money, of which I'm sure you all have LOTS, to Steve Gilliard. Send it to ME. 'Cause I need it more than he does. I need to get my car AC fixed - scratch that, I need a new car. The way I figure, if you, my readers, chip in I'll be able to buy a new car which will ultimately benefit this blog in ways that I should not have to explain so I won't insult your intelligence by doing so. Anyway, if each of the four of you were to send me, say, a mere $2,500.00 apiece, I'll take care of the difference and get something perfectly suitable.
Seriously, the car AC IS broken. And it sucks. I've been resisting doing anything with it, because I've got to get a new car sooner rather than later, but today it was 105 degrees and I couldn't take it anymore. I took it to my longtime mechanic. After pumping $130 worth of freon into it, he determined there was something wrong with either the compressor or some evaporator valve or the evaporator, or all three. He wrote his diagnosis on my ticket:
"NOISEY COMPRESSOR"
"RESTRICTED VALVE AT EVAPORATOR"
"LRAICACIL FRUIR EVAPORATOR ARUP?"
His writing is kinda hard to read. It looks like Cyrillic.
Anyway, the cost to fix it would be "astronomical," in his words. Certainly it would be in relation to the value of the car, which is a '95 Saturn with 186,000 miles on it.
This mechanic, Mike, has been telling me for the last, oh, 100,000 miles that I need to start looking for a new car. When the Saturn hit about 85,000 miles he started telling me, "The Sat-turns don't have much longevity. My other Sat-turn customers aren't getting much more than 100,000 miles out of their Sat-turns."
"OK," I said. Bummer, I thought.
Around about 120,000 miles or so, Mike told me, "You just can't expect to get 150,000 miles out of most cars." I said, "Why not?"
At about 160,000 miles, I started getting the impression that Mike was kinda pissed that my car was still running. "You've done well with your Sat-turn," Mike said, grudgingly, "but you can't expect to get many more miles out of it." "I'm shooting for 200," I told him.
Today, I said to Mike, "It's got 186,000 miles on it. You didn't think I could do it, didja?"
"You've certainly proved me wrong," Mike said.
"See! I was PROVED FUCKING RIGHT!" I shouted. OK, I didn't.
As much as I'd like to shoot for 250,000 miles with the Sat-turn, just to see Mike's head explode, I suppose it IS time I start looking seriously for a new car. All I know is that I want a small car that gets great gas mileage. I love small cars (I like big cars, too, as long as I don't have to drive them). I love being able to park in nooks and crevices where SUV's fear to tread. Though if we have another couple of days like this one, I'll take anything I can get.
The way oil prices are going, I may be able to get someone to GIVE me a Hummer . . .
