On Tuesday of last week my check engine light came on. A special kind of horror filled my heart. On Wednesday while I was driving home at about 45 MPH the car seemed like it down shifte to 3rd. The engine was running really hard. I took it to an Advanced Auto Parts to use their diagnostic machine. I walk up to the counter and ask if I could use the machine. The polite gentleman tells me yes they have them but he can't let me use it because someone stole it.

Lovely...

He then gives me the location of another of their stores. I perilously drive to the next store to use the machine. Luckily theirs hasn't been stolen. I plug it in under my dash, turn the key and then press the start button.

Scanning...

700 Transmission Control Module

Fuck!

I go back in the store to return the machine. The lady at the register is on the phone. I get pissed as she makes me wait when I just want to hand her back her devil machine and get back my license. She finally acknowledges my existence in the universe and gives back my ID. I drive back home.

On Thursday I decide to risk the drive to my training class for the day. I make it there without incident but on the way home...more of the same. I decide I need to have the car looked at.

On Friday morning I take the car to the dealership where I got it. I call first of course so as not to waste time and tell the person who answers the phone exactly what has happened to the car and what the diagnostic says. He tells me to come on in. When I get there they take the car for a drive and then put it on the machine.

The verdict...

"You have a problem with your transmission."

Well no shit! I told you that on the fucking phone you waste of space!

OK that's not what I said but I was thinking it. Adam, my friendly neighborhood mechanic, recommends a transmission shop where I can get my car repaired and sends me on my way. Now I'm great with directions. I could find an anthill across town blind folder but this place... I think the owner read a few too many J.K. Rowling novels and thought it would be a cool idea to put a cloak of invisibility around the building. After driving up and down the street 3 times I finally found the place. Lord knows how they manage to do any business.

They do their car hoodoo and tell me that...wait for it...there is something wrong with my transmission. I guess it's probably a good thing that I took the car to the transmission repair shop then. Idiots! I'm told that in order to figure out exactly what is wrong with the car they will need to completely take the transmission apart. I agree and the owner gives me a ride home. This was Friday morning.

I call up the shop on Tuesday morning (Monday was a holiday) to get an update. Of course no one can tell me anything. That's asking too much. Apparently they did not take apart the transmission on Friday like they told me they would. If I had known they would wait until Tuesday I could have kept my car. I could have at least run down the street to the store in it. But knowing my luck it would have completely broken down and I would be stranded.

A few hours (yes hours) later I get a call back from the shop owner. He asks me how my day is. I tell him that depends on what he's called to tell me. He jokes that the last person he called said almost exactly the same thing. Perhaps he should stop asking dumb ass questions then. So he proceeds to tell me all about transmissions and torque converters and how both of mine are now useless paperweights. They need to rebuild the transmission and replace the torque converter.

$1589.45

Then numnuts says that it could be worse. I'm trying to figure out how. He just told me that my car needs more in repairs than it's even worth. I'd just sell the piece of crap but i still owe a boat load of money on the loan. So I'm stuck. Damned if I do...damned if I don't. Then he asks me how my credit is. I stop myself from hysterical laughter.

We do a credit application over the phone. He is trying to see if qualify for a 6 months same as cash program. If I do that will solve my immediate problem and I can get my car back tomorrow. If I'm not approved...suicide?

While I wait for a call back on my credit application I start chatting with Sarah. I remark to her that this new hiccup in my 10 year plan means that I won't be able to move this year. Just a week ago my dog got sick an costs me a few $100 in medical bills. Now the car is broken. God must be trying to tell me not to move. Maybe some horrible tragedy is going to happen an my apartment is one of the few places that won't be affected.

It must finally be time for the zombie apocalypse...



After 2 hours I call back the shop. Still no word on my credit application. I ask Sarah if I can just quit life. She tells me no because that would mean suicide and my daughter would end up with her father. We can't have that so I will have to just continue on living for a few more years.

Yay me!