Auto Da Fe, 2008

According to history, the auto da fe was a religious ceremony of penance for condemned heretics and apostates that usually culminated in their punishment by torture, burning at the stake, or some other similarly enlightened form of public demise.

Today, the auto da fe still involves torture, but it uses real autos.

As a result of a long and tangled skein of circumstances, Agnes and I have three cars. Since shortly before last Christmas, at any one time two of them have been in expensive mechanical distress of one sort or another. I have been towed about five times, spent the equivalent of the GNP of a medium-sized African nation in repairs, and am reluctant to drive farther than I can walk back. The Mistress of the Dark writes eloquently of her dread of the Orange Light O'Doom on her car's dashboard...I dread the multicolored lights o'doom on our dashboards which always indicate the pending hemorrhage of cash from our battered checkbooks. We're funding the college educations of our local mechanic's children. And his yacht.

Last week, I took in Agnes's car with the worst of all possible problems: an intermittent electrical problem which prevents the car from starting until help has arrived, at which time it starts up fine and runs normally. The car always runs like a Swiss watch for the mechanic, but when we're at the wheel, the specially designed agony-inducing circuit kicks in and causes all sorts of problems. The dealer kept the car for four days, during which time it resolutely refused to cooperate with all attempts to reproduce the problem. I spent $1300 ($1200 after the senior citizen discount they gave me in sympathy), and within 24 hours the bright, happy "Check Engine" idiot light was back on. AARRGGHH!!

Today, I'm taking in my car, which has a distressing tendency for the engine to suddenly stop running at irregular intervals. This is fun when you're cruising down the interstate and suddenly have no engine, no power steering, and no brakes. My local mechanic tells me his computer registers 16 different fault codes when connected to the car...but he can't figure out what the problem is. After the last time he worked on the car, it seemed to run all right, except that now each time I hit a bump, the radio stops and none of the power windows operate. I've decided to bite the automotive bullet and take the car back to the dealership, which has called in extra staff to stock up on zeroes for the estimate.

So, we're down to one reasonably well-functioning car...but it has one headlight out, and is designed so that Real People cannot replace the headlights on their own...a mechanic has to remove the entire front end of the car up to the firewall to reach and replace the defective bulb.

Country singer Jerry Reed once sang a song called "Lord, Mr Ford":

"Lord, Mr Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become...
If I ain't out of gas in the pouring rain,
I'm fixin' a flat in a hurricane,
I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf."

Mr Reed and I understand each other.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow, unless I'm stuck at the side of the highway waiting for a tow while I watch the Orange Lights O'Doom.

Bilbo