Cars

I don’t particularly like cars. I don’t like knowing anything about how they work. I’m not crazy about having to fill their huge, ravenous bellies with nasty, polluting (but mostly expensive) gas. I don’t like the responsibility of having to change the oil every 3,000 miles or three months, whatever comes first. I don’t like warring about every new little noise or vibration and wondering when the machine will just stop working or blow up or something.

This being said, I do appreciate being able to drive to work on a -40 degree day. Or not having to carry bags of clothes, groceries, etc. around by bike or by buss. I like being about to go places and see things whenever I want.

But I still don’t like having to learn how they work just to take care of them. I don’t know how on earth my CD player, coffee maker, curling iron, or DVD/VCR player work. We are all able to live in peace and harmony and happiness. They don’t require me to perform mysterious rituals for them to be at peak performance. If one of these machines does decide to stop working, fine. I replace it. Easy. Not a big deal.

But a car? You must take care of it or a car will give up. You can’t have the handy “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it” policy. You must all kinds of different types of liquids into different pipes and holes. You must put oil into the engine if the dipstick dictates it. You need to put windshield wiper fluid into the proper container. And coolant. Coolant is what inspires this tirade.

You see, the “low coolant” light began lighting up about a week ago. I wanted to ignore it like I do the “change oil soon” light, which keeps coming on because I haven’t found the button that you are supposed to push every time you change the oil. So as long as I remember the date and mileage I’m ok, even thought the light says differently.

I have bad memories from my childhood that involve “low coolant” lights and “very hot” engine meters. Bad, bad memories. Melted engine. Smoking car. Mad Dad. Sad Mom. Very much in-trouble me.

So I pull out the owner’s manual and begin reading about coolant. I discovered that I needed a very specific brand of coolant. I needed to mix this specific brand with water and then pour it into the coolant container, carefully, so as not to spill any on the engine (I’m not sure why you can’t spill any…the book didn’t say, and I can’t think of any good reasons for the non-spillage warning. It’s not corrosive, is it?). If the level of coolant is too low, you need to put some of the mixture into the radiator, to keep the engine from overheating while the coolant works its way through the car’s system. Then, you need to keep an eye on the coolant container, because the level of coolant in a car when the engine is hot is dramatically different than the level of coolant in a cold engine.

With this wealth of coolant information in my head, I went to the nearest gas station to buy some. I put a confident smile on my face, used purposeful steps to walk through the door. Why this front, you ask? Well, let me tell you. It’s because gas stations intimidate me, at least they do when I need more than gas and a Coke. It seems like everyone in the station knows more than I do about cars, politics and the pursuit of clean vehicles, so when I need a special brand of coolant and a funnel, it’s very intimidating. I feel like I need to put on a front to keep “them” from seeing how insecure I am with my vehicle supplies purchasing decisions.

So I walk in, and a very smart looking (for a mechanical minded youth) asked me if I need help. My first instinct was to cry. My second was to say, “No, no, I’m fine. Where’s your bathroom?” The option I went with was a combo of the first two. I sadly asked him where the coolant was. He asked me what kind I needed. I told him. He asked what kind of car I had. I told him. He looked impressed. I think he thought I actually knew something about cars. He then proceeded to explain to me something about engines and why in ND in the winter it was better to use less water in your coolant but thankfully, he stopped before he really got going. He probably noticed my eyes glaze over. I think he was disappointed that he hadn’t found a kindred soul in me.

Then, I heard the most beautiful words in the world come from his mouth: ”Pull your car up to the front and I’ll put it in for you.”

God bless mechanics.