Manny, Moe, and Jackass

I know nothing about cars. Nada. I can put gas in the tank, check the air pressure in the tires, and that's pretty much it. My dad and brother are mechanical geniuses, but apparently that strand of DNA just flew right past me.

My lack of automotive knowledge is rarely an issue. But sometimes . . .

I was driving along the 15 freeway last Friday afternoon. Oh, by the way, here's one of the many differences between California (where I live) and New Jersey (where I grew up). In California, the highways and freeway numbers are always said with the article "the" in front of them. For example, "You go south on the 15, head west on the 10, south on the 405, and get off at Century Blvd." In Jersey, it's just the number. "Go east on 22, that'll take you to 78, and you cross the bridge into Pennsylvania." Just one of the many differences between our two sub-cultures.

Okay, so anyway, I was driving along the 15 in my Ford Taurus, and as usual, Friday night traffic was a complete fustercluck. Whenever I came to a stop (which was every ten feet or so) all the dashboard lights would come on and the engine would die. I could start it up again, and as long as I was revving the engine it was fine, but as soon as I stopped . . . kaput.

Let me tell you a little bit about my relationship with dashboard lights. I don't like them. They're fairly useless, in my opinion. Take, for example, the "check engine" light. The last car I owned, a Mazda 626, lasted for 270,000 miles, the last 150,000 or so with the "check engine" light glowing in all its glory.

When the light first came on, I panicked. I pulled the car to the side of the road, opened the hood, and checked the engine.

It was still there. Now, how do I get the light to go off?

When I got home, I called the local Pep Boys store (more on these guys later).

"Pep Boys."

"Yeah, my check engine light is on. What's up with that?"

"Did you check the gas cap?"

"Uh, no, is there a check gas cap light, too?"

"No, but if the gas cap is loose, the check engine light comes on."

"Excuse me?"

"The check engine light will come on if the gas cap isn't on properly."

"What if I have a flat tire, will the oil light come on?"

"Why would the oil light come on for a flat tire?"

"Exactly my point."

Manny (or maybe it was Moe) didn't get it. I went and checked the gas cap. It was fine. Mr. Pep ran through a list of things that could cause the engine light to come on, but he may as well have been reading from a Portuguese recipe book for all the sense it made to me. Sensor this, emissions that, blah blah blah.

I ignored him. The car lasted another several years. Engine light, schmengine light.

So I'm stalling out on the southbound 15, and I figure I better get off the freeway at the next exit. Engine dying, lights a-flickering, radio going full blast so I don't have to hear the sound of the sputtering machinery under the hood, I finally pull over on a side street. And now the engine won't even start. It just makes a weird grinding and clicking noise.

Well, shit.

I call the Pep Boys' 800 number, and get towed to their nearest shop. It's about 6 PM, so Moe (or maybe Jack) tells me that they won't get to my car until the next morning. Fine.

The next morning, I get the call and Jack informs me that the battery is good, but I need a new alternator, whatever the hell that is. I also need plugs, a vacuum hose, and it looks like it's time for an oil change. Total damage, just over $700.

Manny, Moe, and Jacked.

I wish this were the end of the story, but it isn't. I pick up the car on Saturday morning, and everything seems fine. Car starts, no Disneyland electric light parade on my dashboard, we're good to go.

Fast forward to Tuesday morning. I'm driving to work and my battery light comes on. I didn't even know there WAS a battery light, but there you have it. I take the car to my local Pep Boys (not the same one that I was at on Friday) to find out what the hell's going on. Their version of Moe tells me that the battery is dead.

"Um, the guy at the other Pep Boys checked it Friday, and said it tested fine," I informed him.

"Well, it isn't. Let me check something else."

The "something else" turned out to be the alternator. I explained that the other Pep Boys had just put in that alternator. Well, it was a bad alternator, and because it was bad, it killed my battery.  Bad, bad alternator.

So now I need a new battery. Another hundred bucks. They go to the back to get a new alternator from the shelf to replace the crappy one (free of charge, thank God), and wouldn't you know it, the new one tests bad right out of the box. So they send a guy to another store to get me a new alternator, one that actually works. They install it, I drive home, everything is A-OK.

Until Wednesday afternoon.

I get a call from my lovely Theresa. "Um, did you notice that your car is leaking something all over the driveway?"

"No, I did not."

"Well, you might want to get it looked at."

I go out to my car in the parking lot at work, and there's a huge puddle under it. Oil, I suppose, but for all I know it could be maple syrup. I drive back to my friends at Pep Boys.

"Yeah, I was in here yesterday, and now my car's leaking."

Moe checks it out. Apparently, when the Keystone Karguys at the other store had done the oil change, they also checked all the other fluids.

AND FORGOT TO PUT THE DIPSTICK BACK IN THE TRANSMISSION FLUID TANK!

So my car had been spouting transmission fluid for a couple days. They topped off the fluid, and I was on my way.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who doesn't know Jack (or maybe Manny) about cars. And some of us are actually working as professional mechanics.


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