Cars and stuff

This denial thing. I do it with my health and with everything else too. It works like this. You notice something's not quite right but you get distracted or you have other things to worry about so you put the thing aside and continue on. Later, you notice something is definitely not right but you don't have time or money to deal with it right now and it's probably not that bad anyway. Then you realize something is certainly wrong but even then you keep going, if the situation allows, until sooner or later it doesn't. 

In this case, it's my car. There's been this god-awful sound coming from the right wheel getting worse over the last couple of weeks. I'm driving at least 100 miles daily to and from a new job with no real time to take it to the shop. I'm thinking it's the brakes. I'm going to need pads, rotors, calipers. Man, I waited too long again. But worn brakes don't make that churning sound, they make a grinding sound. So today - a day off - I got up early and was waiting at the shop when it opened. 

Yes, your rear brakes need to be replaced they told me. What about the noise in the front, I ask. They go back to take a look, drive it around the block, and call me back later. We've got some bad news, the guy says. And I'm amazed you even made it here. You'd better come and see this. 

I walk back to the garage from the coffee shop up the road. The car is on the lift. He shakes the wheel with is hands. It's very wobbly. He said he doesn't know how it didn't come off while I was driving. The wheel bearings are completely shot. 

I've got almost 350,000 miles on this car. Three warning lights have been permanently on for probably a year. I failed inspection - something about the Check Engine light and emissions - probably a sensor needs replacing someone told me. My sticker says "R". A tree fell on it last week denting the roof and breaking the windshield. Someone is going to meet me Wednesday at my place of work to replace that. That is, if it's out of surgery by then. 

If it was a dog, the mechanic/veterinarian would be having a frank discussion with me about quality of life at this point. 350,000 miles, Buddy, I'd tell him. Do you have any idea what that means? For as long as there's life in that critter, we're gonna go on rolling together. Here's to a half a million miles!

So now I've got a rental that seems to cost me more than it should. It features a backup camera. The steering wheel vibrates when I drift even the slightest bit. And I can't figure out the radio. 

They wouldn't let me sleep in the garage tonight. I'm not even a car guy, but 350,000 miles? You'd best believe in that.