Friday, November 02, 2007
My car is posessed. I have this problem. If I pull up to a halt a little too quickly and turn everything off at the same time I move into park, it makes a kind of shudder and I know when I try to start it again, there will be trouble. The battery is new so the spark flies. It's regularly serviced so I know the fuel is getting through the line and the plugs work. The starter motor is also new so apart from having to bang it occasionally with my shoe, no worries. She's serviced every 10,000ks, lubricated, greased and valve grinded . . so what's her problem? She gets more attention than I ever did!
I turn on the ignition and it makes all the right noises but doesn't catch. If I do this long enough, the ignition keeps kicking over without the engine catching. I can even remove my key and she persists in her rhythmic coughing alerting my dilemma to all and sundry and the only way to stop it is to disconnect the battery. Once done, I just let her calm down, speak zen phrases or chant a calming 'ohm maddy ohm' mantra to relax the diva then have another go. The NRMA man said it's probably a faulty ignition. My mechanic says it could be the fuel line but without being able to replicate it, difficult to tell. (I'm sure he used to be a Systems Administrator).
Either way, it's bloody embarassing. I sit there like a lame duck usually with two inappropriate B rated videos and a couple of bottles of wine in the seat next to me (why else would I go shopping) while nice people come and ask if I'm alright. Give the old girl a little rest. Turn off the radio and electrics, crank the ignition and off she goes to fight another day.
I don't understand. I've looked after her bones for the last five years. She used to be my Dad's car and was lovingly serviced, shampoo'd and polished at Trivett Classic Cars, her tyres blacked and air freshener installed as part of the service . . . she has nice grey sheepskin covers to protect her leathery skin but lately, has been turned into a delivery vehicle with boxes of folders and letterhead on the back seat and rubbish carelessly thrown about. Ah . . Daz always says I'm slow on the uptake . . .that's it. She's got the shits because the regular pampering has come to a halt. Because of the drought and our inability to use a hose, she hasn't had a shower in a year, nobody lathers her bones other than a panicked rub with dish washing liquid as storm clouds gather then she's left out to face the deluge. (DrummerBoy's idea of exterior detailing). Her tyres haven't been blacked for 5 years and she certainly hasn't been polished. Her paint's chipping and the interior resembles a movie theatre after the crowd has left. To make it worse, I think she heard me watching Top Gear last night and probably got miffed when she heard me commenting on how nice it would be to have a new Saab. That's it, project for this weekend, get the old girl gleaming and maybe she'll behave herself. . . just until February . . . Once Clare's gone, we have a spare! Shhhh . . for crying out loud don't tell her or she'll behave even more badly . . .
Aww c'mon boys . . you didn't think I'd leave you out?