Pimp my ride
About a month ago, I was driving on the Kennedy when my windshield made a sharp cracking sound. Once I got over the initial shock, I didn’t think about it again until the next day. When I got in the car, I noticed a small spiderweb fracture in the glass coming up from the drivers side windshield wiper. I guess I had been pegged by a pebble or something spit out from the underside of a truck or bus. Whatever the cause, the fracture grew a little bit more every day.
On Monday night, I realized that the fracture was picking up speed. No doubt about it, I had to get the windshield replaced. I dreaded the idea–partly because of the cost, but mainly because I hate having to do anything in the morning after working the overnight shift. By 6:30 a.m., I’m crabby. By 7:30, I’m delirious. By 8:30, I’m of the mind that killing people for looking at me crosseyed is perfectly acceptable. The idea of taking my car in at the beginning of the business day seemed like an effort too backbreaking to bear.
I left work at 5:30, as always, and drowsily poured myself into my nondescript Toyota. Keys in the ignition. A turn. Nothing. The engine made a “clicking” sound I’d never heard before. Another try. Nothing. Oh. My. God. Insult to injury. I took a deep breath and tried not to freak. After waiting for a minute, I pumped my gas pedal. The car remarkably turned over, and I left the lot for home. Add “check the alternator and/or battery” to my car “to do” list for the day.
As I drove home, the car made a seriously uncomfortable grinding noise. I had a hard time braking. No way. The brakes were seriously acting up. Another one for the list.
The final tally of what I had done to my car on Tuesday:
-Had a new windshield installed.
-Had brake shoes and pads replaced (they were worn down to potential rotor-destroying levels).
-Had a new battery installed (the source of the turnover issue).
My hat trick of car trouble was one of those bizarre, “perfect storm,” convergences of problems that seem almost calculated in the way they come together.
The good news? It was all affordable and professionally handled within hours. I love my mechanic. Deeply. Profoundly. Forever.