TheBanyanTree: The Car Curse

[Margaret R. Kramer]

I love my little black car.  I love how nimble and quick it is during
stressful traffic situations.  I love its acceleration power.  I love its
absolutely fantastic stereo system.  I love the moon roof.  I love the seat
warmers.  Nothing is nicer than a warm butt on a below zero day.  I love my
car.

But it’s cursed.  No, it’s not a lemon.  It runs beautifully, but strange
and unpredictable things happen to it all the time.

About a year and a half ago, I was rear ended while we were up at the North
Shore.  I was making a left turn, my blinker clearly blinking on and off,
and SLAM!   A woman who wasn’t paying attention rammed into my rear.

A few frantic phone calls to my insurance company and a sleepless night on
Lake Superior later, we got the car towed to Duluth, rented a boring Grand
Am, and drove home.  I didn’t know that I would not see my lovely car for
almost two months.

This winter, as a huge snowstorm was winding down, I was driving to work,
when I rode over what I thought would be a chunk of soft ice which would
crush under my car.  No, the soft chunk was really a rock hard ice missile,
and when I drove over it, it launched an attack on the underbelly of my car.

It blew out my oil pan, which in turn, blew out my engine, and there I was
sitting in traffic waiting for a tow which would take three hours to show
up.  The engine was a total loss, and I waited almost three months for a new
engine to be shipped from Germany.

A new engine, a new car.  I was happy again.

Until . . . my check engine light started shining on my dash board.
Dutifully, I took the car in.  I thought it was kind of odd that the check
engine light would go on when the engine didn’t even have 5,000 miles on it
yet.

I thought it would be a simple sensor problem, covered under warranty, and
not a big deal.  But no, the car curse was on, an evil force was battling me
for control of my car, and it turned out that mice had built a nest on top
of my gas tank and chewed on some of the fuel lines.  This caused small
leaks in the hoses and gas was slowly gurgling out.  The dealership took
pictures and there it was, a little nest made of paper and bird seed and gas
stains all over the tank.  The imbalance of the fuel mixture caused the
check engine light to come on.

They had to yank the tank off, replace the fuel lines, and after paying a
ransom of $1,000, I got my car back.  I asked my service representative if
they took the curse off, too.  He said, “Well, we washed your car.  That
might do it.”

It’s going to take more than a car wash to rid myself of this curse.  So, if
you’re driving in a St. Paul, MN neighborhood, and a see a black car sitting
in the driveway with lots of candles and people doing funny dances around
it, and the people are looking anxiously up at the sky, that’s my cursed
car.  Please send a few positive thoughts its way.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
Be a star!

http://www.bpwmn.org
Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
~Joseph Addison