In January, I replaced all the belts and hoses and whatnot in my Subaru (to the tune of $1,200), and now it won’t pass inspection. Why? The check-engine light is on. Amongst others, the catalytic converter code pops up on the computer, but whoa, that’s a thousand bucks. My mechanic says the spark plugs blah blah misfiring and the spark plug wires blah, and that could be what’s setting off the alarm, so “Cross your fingers that, when that’s fixed, the cat con code will disappear as well.”
I trudge around Chapel Hill for six and a half hours while they replace that stuff.
$816.
He says, “OK, it needs about seventy miles to reset. If the light doesn’t come on in seventy miles, you’re good to go. Come back and we’ll reinspect it.”
So I drive seventy miles. No light. Whew!
Eight miles later, stupid fucking light comes on.
I’m trying to keep this in perspective. Dug told me, when we first met, that his brother had cystic fibrosis and had been in the hospital for months waiting for a lung transplant. He had actually had one already a couple years ago, which seemed to be doing well, for about a year. Can you imagine? Thinking, “Hey, I’ve got working lungs!” for a year. Jesus, what a disappointment when they go on the fritz.
So this is just a car. It’s just a car. It’s just money.
Never should’ve sold my Civic.
