What (expletive) is that? The sound coming from the engine compartment, while not of code-red emergency status, WAS annoying, immediately prompting a closer inspection. Hood up, mini flashlight in mouth, I began the process of checking wires, cables, hoses and parts for looseness, unraveling, improper mechanical placement, wear and tear. Found nothing. The noise, to the best of my first response mechanical triage, was like something spinning (electrical), fast (non fluid) and high-pitched (thank God its not a valve or bearing). But I, frustratingly, couldn’t pinpoint the exact location.
Making the executive decision that more testing was the right call, I took off. Taking the chance of looking like a fool in the rain, I drove through the morning rain with lowered windows, head half-way outside. I got no closer to solving the mystery, making a mental note to check the anti-freeze when I got home. Oil too, just in case.
I am listening to Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ One Hundred Years of Solitude on tape. The sprawling and lyrical multi-generational tome is fighting for my full attention as I make a weak attempt to multi-task the ride home. Failing, I finally turn the tape off and return my cabesa to its automotive interrogation. Nada.
To streamline a rather longish narrative, this scenario kept its vigilance all week as the story went deeper and the noise got louder. On Thursday I commandeered a bay in the garage, jacked her up, slid under and inspected things from a different point of view. My thinking was in full on parallel mode as I searched for the responsible party in this family drama. Lose muffler clamp? Speedometer cable? Water pump? Revolution?
I had all but given up and had begun the painful task of managing my fixed and limited finances to pay for the repair at the local shop. When I get a text from Junior asking for an early ride to school so he can get some Trig tutorials from the math prof. Sure, see you at 0730.
I am right on time (five minutes early) and we depart for school. I mention the noise to him, also asking about the status of his drivers ed and subsequent entry into the complex world of being licensed in the state of Washington to drive a motor vehicle. He says he hears the sound, has no idea as to its source and will take the drivers test the second week of next year.
We get to school, exchange our secret handshake, he walks towards the red brick building and I head home. STILL WORKING THE FINANCES AND REMAINING OPTIONS in my mind as I turn the tape back on. Where I am shocked to hear of murder, incest, rape, war, revolution, love, adventure, restitution, pain, magic, fear and adultery IN ONE PARAGRAPH.
I navigate the Ranger towards home and look at the dash clock. Hmmmmmm. I could be the first one in line to talk to Island Center John, my favorite all-time mechanic (Dad does’t count in this poll) so I pull into his always crowded lot. There is your decision I say aloud with Spanish inflection.
John says that his staff will be here momentarily so if I could wait just ten minutes (I hear diez minutos) they will get me fixed up. I head up the street for a coffee and treat myself to a poppy-seed muffin as reward for such an outstandingly clever managerial decision.
Upon my return Joe, as promised, is waiting with a stethoscope hung from his burly neck. I pop the hood and start the motor, providing him with the sordid details and my efforts to troubleshoot. He takes a vibrational reading of several parts before removing the scope and turning towards me, announces, ‘alternator’.
I roll my eyes admitting what a hack I am in non-verbal self-incrimination.
‘Want me to order one?’
‘Yeah, might as well, can you get it today?’
“No problem, should be here and in by noon at the latest, you want a ride home?’
Remembering the muffin and its prodigious calorie count, I decline and start to walk. I return home, log on and get back at it. I will stall the purchase of the new trainer, a Kickr Snap, to pay for what I estimate will be a two to three hundred dollar unexpected expenditure. Cash travels fast in this county cowboy.
Nancy at the shop calls to inform me that my truck is done and ready for pick-up, do I need a ride?
I tell her no thanks I have already troubled you enough today and I’ll be there within the hour.
I save my work and log out. I suit up for my first bike ride in over a month and head out. The chilly wind feels like aftershave on my face, crisp, clean and refreshing. I get to the shop. John is in his chair holding the phone in his chin and talking on the phone. Business is good. He looks up to see me and smiles.
‘Got her done.’
’Super, what do I owe ya?’ The moment of truth has shown up riding a muscular black stallion.
’Nothing, we got it done on warranty.’
‘Muchos gracias amigo, vaya con Dios.’
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