As I sent yesterday's blog entry, I learned the fate of my stalwart companion. It wasn't just a muffler. It was the entire exhaust system. Salt and sand and whatever else they toss on northeastern roads had taken its toll. Everything was rusted and needed to be replaced. Four digit total cost.
I sat in shock as the breaker-of-bad-news pointed to the seemingly endless list of parts, using words like "catalytic converter...gasket...rusted bolts..." I thought that my own exhaust system would have to be replaced if he continued. I managed to stammer, "When could you have this done?" He said, "Probably not until Friday." "But I need a car," I said, weakly.
Within five minutes of breaking the news, they had me in a courtesy car, at no cost. They let me get some items out of my car, so I grabbed the iPod FM transmitter, the access card for my apartment gate, the parking permit for college, and my ice scraper. As I stood in the parking lot of the dealership, clutching these loose items, I realized that I'd been traumatized. Why did I need my ice scraper? I had no answer, except that it was something to cling to.
I like to think that my car feels bad about all of this. That it had been sick for a while but was holding on for me. With the increased demands of a twice-weekly, 2-hour commute, it just couldn't hang on any more. Hopefully, when we put this behind us, we'll be back on open road, just the two of us, heading out for new adventures.
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