I Will Try to Fix You

My windshield washer fluid nozzles have been broken for a long, long time.  I’ve mentioned them from time to time when I’ve taken the car in for service, but they always tell me that it’s a “dealer” thing.  Well, my dealer closed up, and I don’t even know where their other branch is, so, yeah.

I’ve known since the beginning what the problem was.  On the underside of my hood is some sort of material that kind of looks like cardboard, or maybe a little asbestos-y, I don’t know.  I imagine it protects the nozzles and the hood itself from the heat of the engine.  Shortly after I noticed my wiper fluid was low, when I went to refill it, I noticed blue stains on the cardboard piece.  Once the wiper fluid vanished even more quickly than normal, I put two and two together and came up with “leak.”

Tonight, I was getting gas on my way home work when I decided to wash the windshield with one of the gas station squeegees.  As I reached the bottom of the windshield, I noticed what looked like a little tube poking out from under my hood.  I popped it open and it turns out that the tube was coming from under the asbestos-y cardboard.  Aha!  This must be the source of the problem.  I was finally going to get it fixed, and I was going to do it myself.  I cannot tell you how proud and masculine I felt in that moment.

When I got home, I popped the hood.  I was going to have to remove the covering from the underside of the hood, which despite my suspicions, I had never done.  It seemed to me that in order to do so, I would have to risk ripping it, and I didn’t want to do that unless I was certain.

Well, I was certain now, and as I prepared to take it off, I noticed four plastic fasteners of sorts holding the covering onto the hood.  I removed them, and just like magic, the covering slid out from the brackets much easier than I had expected.  That kind of bothered me; all this time, and I had never noticed how it was actually attached.

Now that I had the covering removed, I was ready to fix the nozzles.  I could see the fluid line and the parts where it was supposed to connect to the nozzles were detached.  I reached in to reattach them…but they wouldn’t fit.  I assumed that the tubing went over or inside the nozzle housing, but upon closer inspection (rather, upon any inspection, because after five and a half years of driving the car this is the first I had seen these parts), it appeared that the part of the tubing that connects to the nozzles had actually broken off inside the nozzles.

Oh well.

I tucked the loose line back into the cover and reattached it to the hood.  I was disappointed to be unable to fix it, but I resolved to look up the prices of the nozzles and do it myself.

Someday.  Because this was a couple hours ago, and I still haven’t looked anything up yet.

C’est la vie.  Besides, who needs washer fluid in the winter?  That’s what rain and snow and gas stations are for.

You’re Just Like Crosstown Traffic

It happened again this morning.  It happens to me multiple times per week, often on my way into work, and I cannot overstate how inexplicable and strange and, frankly, really annoying it is.

This morning, a man walked up the sidewalk, looking to cross the street, while cars were stopped at a traffic light.  He walked past one, two, three cars, got to mine, and promptly walked out in front of me as the car ahead of me began to pull away.

For some reason, pedestrians see me and my car and decide that I am the driver they are going to walk out in front of to jaywalk.  I find this peculiar, because, like I said, it happens most often in the morning, and I am not a morning person.  Random passersby don’t know that, of course, but I almost always have sunglasses on and a very dejected look on my face solely because I am awake while the clock still says “AM.”  I wouldn’t think an at-best apathetic looking man in sunglasses would appear to be the friendly type, but apparently it conveys an air of “go for it.”

If I was just sitting in traffic, I don’t think I’d even notice it, let alone care.  I’m not going anywhere, so fine, be on your way.  The problem is that they almost inevitably seem to wait until the light turns green before walking out in front of me.  So while I am initially stopped when they take those first steps out in front of me, by the time they finish what always ends up being a way-too-slow walk across my lane, the car ahead of me has long since pulled away, leaving me and the line of cars behind me to wait.

I always grew up with a healthy respect for the multiple-ton machines that zoom past as I wait to cross the street.  I know that if we meet, I am losing that battle, so even when I am crossing with the light at a crosswalk, I get across the street as quickly as possible.  For some reason, the people who walk in front of me are out on a morning stroll and take their grand old time completing what amounts to a 10-foot trek.  STOP DOING THAT.  I’m sorry, but if I’m walking out in front of an idling vehicle, doing something that is technically illegal, I’m not going to loiter about while I do it.

You know what else I’m not going to do?  Antagonize the driver that could flatten me in two seconds if he or she wished.  And yet, more often than you’d think, one of these clowns not only walks out in front of me, but has the audacity to wave a hand in the air, a la a driver thanking another for letting them make a turn, as if to say, “thanks, driver man, for allowing me to walk across the street illegally without being run over.”  What do you expect me to do, hit you anyway?  I had no choice, so don’t thank me.

But the worst are the people who do the “hey, hey, hold up there, buddy” hand gesture.  You’re the one breaking the law.  I am not.  Your hand is not going to stop me if I am going to hit you; all it does is maybe make my bumper contact your femur at 34.8 miles per hour instead of 35.  So put your frickin’ hand down and stop acting like you can tell me what to do.  Understand that when you do this to me, you are only making it across the street because I am allowing you to live, and that I am doing it solely because my confidence in the “your honor, he put his hand up like he was some sort of jaywalking crossing guard” defense is not high.

To some of you, I surely sound like a raving loon.  To those people I say, well, you probably should have picked up on that six months ago.  But to the rest of you, the ones who know what I’m talking about, you know you’ve had the same thoughts.  You’re not alone.  I’m here for you.

Just as soon as this guy staring at his phone finishes crossing the street.

Cruisin’ Down 8th Street, Off-White Lexus

I like to consider my car an antique.  It’s a 2008 Pontiac G6, and they don’t make those anymore.  I’d love to get one of the little “Classic Car” license plates just for the irony of it.

I like my car; it’s the perfect color (I think it’s called “midnight blue metallic”), it’s the right size, and it just has the right “look” to it for my taste.  My car is my car, and it’s a lot of things…but it’s not a Lexus.

But then again…when does a Lexus stop being “a Lexus?”

I see high-end car makes in parking lots all the time.  But sometimes there’s a Mercedes or a Lexus that’s kind of old and I wonder…is there still any prestige involved with owning that car?  If I roll up in a 2012 Lexus you’re like “oh, fancy,” but if I hop out of my 1995 Lexus, does that still count?  Is it, “once a luxury car, always a luxury car?”  Or is my 2008 Pontiac more…whatever…than a 1997 Benz?

These are the things I think about as I walk across the parking lot.  It’s a wonder I haven’t gotten myself run over.

We Can Drive It Home with One Headlight

Back on New Year’s Eve, I tried to replace my own headlight.  Well, I didn’t try; I succeeded.  Then again, “success” is a strong word, considering it took me an hour.  Prying the casing out was much more difficult than the owner’s manual lets on, and every pull feels like you’re going to shatter the bulb, or the acrylic, or the quarter panel.

Anyway, after way too much time and effort, I had two functional headlights.  For like a month.

I don’t remember exactly when, but sometime in late January or early February, I started my car and noticed that the same headlight was out.  This makes me think that maybe there is something wrong with the wiring and not the bulb, and that it’s something I did when I was replacing it.  Awesome.

Now, I know what you’re saying: “Dude, you’ve been driving around with a broken headlight for a month!”  I know.  But in my defense, last time I tried to fix it, it ended up going out again, and with my job, it’s hard for me to find a day to burn at the mechanic (I have a few other things to get done as well). I know.  No excuse.

I thought about that tonight on my way home.  I’m the clown with one headlight, but I saw two cars with NO headlights on.  How can you…I mean, one headlight illuminates things reasonably well, and I know I didn’t realize at first that my second one was out.  But how do you not notice that you have no headlights on?  Or even worse, do you notice but not care?

There are a lot of things that people do that just make me shake my head (see: “dumping trash in a random parking lot because you’re awful”), but there are some things that make me yell out loud at/to no one particular.  You’re not just putting yourself at risk – what if someone doesn’t see you and you get them killed?  How would you feel then?

Nothing, probably.  You’d probably be laying on the slab next to them.

For Christ’s sake, people.  Turn your headlights on, buckle your seat bets, and be careful.

No Keys, Push to Start

Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned car key?  There are cars now that just require a key fob (with an implanted chip) to be somewhere in the vicinity of the car and then the push of a button to start the ignition.

Um, what?

Like, why do we need this?  Are we really that lazy?  “Oh, this turning of the wrist is soooo exhausting!”  What gives?

I know these things aren’t new, but I saw one recently and was just…I don’t even know.  I’m totally satisfied with my key, except when I can’t take it out of the ignition (which you might think is an argument in favor of a push-button, but in reality it served to tell me that my car wasn’t completely in “park” yet).

And there are ignition keys that aren’t even traditional metal thingamabobs anymore.  My parents had a car recently where the key was this oblong piece of plastic that had something on the end that resembled a cube, and that was what went into the ignition.  Like…really?

I don’t get it.  I will never buy a car that starts with a button or a cube-ular plastic extension.  Until, of course, there are no other options.  But I won’t be happy about it!