Stress is the mind-killer

This week was about a lot of things for me. Interviews, recommendation letters, borrowed books, a new karate student, and even a wedding announcement all made their way into my overextended brain meats. (Don't worry, I'm not getting married.) More than anything else, this week was about car trouble.

I drive a '94 Nissan Sentra. If any of you ever get a chance, buy a Sentra with a standard transmission. The transmissions on these cars are built like... well... really well constructed transmissions. They're extraordinarily cool machines. Unfortunately, the engine is the only thing that works perfectly in my car. The seat belts, turn signal, frame, engine mounts, engine cradle, engine light, steering column, rack and pinion, alignment, oil pan, automatic windows, and door locks all have what I like to call "quirks" that range in severity from annoying to potentially life-threatening.

Dad and I took it to a shop a couple of days ago to see if the frame could be fixed. Happily, the mechanic offered to warp the engine cradle and monkey around with one of the mounts in such a way that would compensate for the bent frame. He did, and the gears shift much more smoothely now that my engine doesn't float around every time I push my clutch pedal. The downside to this little fix is that the boys at the shop dropped my driver's side front window down into the door, and now I can't get it back into what experts call the "closed" position.

So, we took my little car to another shop, our usual mechanic this time. He pointed out the alignment and steering column problems but fixed the window post haste. He put a temporary fix on the steering column that we're supposed to replace next week. The alignment will have to wait until then as well. The poor Sentra has a wicked leftward pull.

For now, though, my car is back. It handles pretty well, and I probably won't die in it. Probably. Oh well. Semper advenio, I guess.


I can't believe I made a fart joke