When Even the Experts are Stumped

Dearest Rachel –

By the end of the day today, it will have been nearly a week since dropping the car off at the dealer’s for what I rather thought would have been fairly routine – if admittedly less regular than just a simple lube, oil and filter – maintenance. Sure, a multi-point inspection would likely add an hour or two to the process, and the transmission situation that I suspected might exist required one of their few specialists, but the mechanics they have there are professionals, especially for Ford model cars. They’ve seen everything by now, in the course of their work, so whatever might be wrong with my car should have been diagnosed and, hopefully, fixed by now, one would think.

One would, apparently, be wrong. To be sure, part of the delay has been due to not being able to get a specialist on it until Thursday (in which case, I wish I had known from the outset, so I could have had it available to use for a couple more days!), but as of Friday, when I called them about its status for the second day in a row, they were forced to admit that they weren’t sure what the problem was.

At the very least, they acknowledged that there was – or rather, is – a problem with the car, which carries both good, bad and possibly worse news with it. Good news, insofar as it’s not just a case of me being paranoid about how it’s running; I was right that the car’s engine is running faster than it ought to be at various speeds, despite personally knowing next to nothing about its internal mechanisms. The bad news, which should be obvious, is that this means it will need some amount of work done it, which will run into four figures, no matter what it turns out to be – and honestly, if it turns out to require a new transmission (a commitment of between six and eight thousand dollars), I might as well give it up and go for a brand new (well, new to me, anyway – I’ve never bought or owned a new car, and don’t intend to start now) car to replace it, as it’s not worth that much to fix. Worse yet, your car (well, yes, Daniel’s, but I can’t bring myself to call it that, with your custom paint job and all that) is also idling near 2,000rpms, meaning that it might be suffering from a similar ailment – and I don’t want to dispose of that car at the same time as I’m dealing with mine.

In fact, I can’t see disposing of it at all; at some point, Daniel needs a new car, most definitely, but once we get him one, I expect to simply put yours away for good in the garage (which we haven’t used for vehicle storage since getting rid of Rocinante) as a sort of museum piece. But I digress.

The distressing part of this situation – aside from being confined to either walking from place to place (which, truth to tell, isn’t all that terrible, as I need the exercise, and I have the time, by and large) or relying on Daniel to get me around (and he’s less thrilled about it with each passing day) – is the fact that the supposed experts don’t seem to have any ideas as to what might be wrong with the car. According to them, it does in fact “ride rough,” but for whatever reason, the onboard computers don’t seem to indicate anything out of the ordinary – or at least, nothing they can pinpoint and fix. Even ascertaining how long it will take them to discover what’s wrong is completely up in the air, let alone the time to actually effect what repairs might be necessary for it. It’s all very strange, and it gives one a certain measure of helplessness.

Of course, I’ll manage without the car, and give them the time they need. Partly because it’s not really all that necessary for me to go here or there – I don’t have a job I’m going to lose by skipping a day or two at the ‘office’ – and for the places I ‘have’ to be at, Daniel ‘has’ to be at, too, so I have a ride (and, of course, there’s always Dad, too). But also, I’m giving them the time because, when you come down to it, what choice do I have? I’ve turned the car over to them to solve this problem or that – certainly, whatever’s wrong with it isn’t something I can fix – are they going to even let me take it back without at least an answer as to what needs to be done?

But the longer I go without an answer, the more concerned I get. These guys are experts, and even they’re stumped. How is that even possible? I can understand that, given accidents, there are infinite ways and places a car can be damaged (no two dings are exactly alike, I should reckon), but this is from just basic wear and tear. This should be a routine issue, even if it turns out to be a major situation (which I hope not, but the longer it takes to ascertain, the more I expect it to be); how did we get to this point?

And the uncertainty is the point; I’m not sure I would want it back if they can’t determine what’s wrong with it. It would be like driving a time bomb. Oh, it wouldn’t suddenly blow up or anything (at least, I would hope not), but there’s the possibility that it might suddenly stop functioning at any given moment, like the automotive equivalent of a heart attack. Do I want to risk that happening while I’m on the road? And without some sort of backup plan for transportation if it happens? I don’t think so.

So, yeah, that’s what I’m starting my morning – and my week – with today, honey. And with that having been said, you’d best know I could stand for you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. Thanks so much.