Oh what a feeling

posted Mon, 11 Apr 2005

Is there anything more stressful than driving down the highway waiting for your car to blow up?

Well, maybe not blow up, but I’m not sure what happens when the thermometer goes into the red zone. I just know that it’s not supposed to be there.

I refilled the radiator this morning. I figured that in rainy, 60-degree weather, I ought to be able to make it the 13 miles from my office to the mechanic without problem.

But no. Three-fourths of the way there, the temperature started to climb. I got off the freeway and let the car cool for a while. Started again. Temperature high right away. There’s water in the reservoir – so there should be water in the radiator, right?

Sit for 15 minutes. Start. Go two blocks. Temperature skyrockets. Pull over. Sit. Read owner’s manual again, looking for clues that perhaps the thermostat might be bad and that it would be OK to drive the car despite what the thermometer says. Toyota not only refuses to give me that permission but tells me that I should not drive another inch without calling the Toyota dealer.

Well. I refuse to be daunted only three miles from my destination, even though I am in not the best of neighborhoods. It is pouring down rain. I am in my gym clothes, having gone to do weights at lunch. I didn’t bother to change back into my work clothes, which, as it turns out, was a very wise decision.

I gingerly approach the radiator again, a thick towel in my right hand. I am going to open the radiator cap. How hot is “hot?” As in, “do not open the radiator when the engine is hot?” I can touch it with my bare hands. It’s not too hot for that. I cover the cap with the towel, make a quarter turn, and jump back quickly. I don’t want that steaming fluid under pressure to scald me. Nothing happens, so I make another quick turn and jump back.

Then I realize that the big crack that is running along the plastic housing on top of the radiator is probably letting off any pressure. I open the radiator all the way and it’s just fine. As in “no pressure” just fine, not as in “contains fluid” just fine. As I am standing there in the rain, pouring water and cooling fluid into the radiator, a truck pulls up next to me. A black guy gets out. “You know you’re in the hood, right?” he asks.

Well, yes, but it’s not like I had a lot of choice about this. “Do you think they’ll know I’m not from here?” I ask. He just looks at me.

He checks the radiator and confirms that the crack is not supposed to be there. He also tells me that it’s not full. Don’t I have any more water?

Nope.

He rolls his eyes, takes the coolant container from me, and walks toward the road, where there is a ditch full of fresh rainwater. I guess it doesn’t really matter if I put distilled water into the radiator now.

He asks me where I’m taking the car. How much are they charging? Don’t I know I can call 1-800-radiator and get a better price than that? Don’t I have a husband or a boyfriend who can put that in for me? I think of Harpo, who is already at work, and decide that I would rather have a car that works by 6:00 tonight than save $100.

I get to the mechanic just as all the fluid has blown out again and the thermometer has climbed to red. There are no other cars being worked on. One of the mechanics even brings me home after I whine about being stuck there in wet gym clothes and no computer and no book. His car has (I kid you not) red crushed velvet upholstery, but it gets me home.