Family Daze: Assessing the many troubles with cars

I’ve been a parent for awhile now, and I can’t help but look at the world through a mother’s eyes. So that’s my excuse, anyway, for sometimes treating my car, like my kids.
No, I’ve never grounded my car or sent it to think about things in its room. Besides, the garage is so cluttered we could never fit it in there, anyway.
But I’ve always given my car the benefit of the doubt when it acts strange. Like I might explain away my daughter’s grumpiness by deciding she hasn’t gone shopping enough lately, or my son getting a C on a quiz to staying up too late the night before, I figure my car’s just having a bad day. Maybe we drove through a few too many puddles, or it didn’t like the exhaust from the Mack truck that we lingered behind on the freeway.
But, see, treating a car like that is not such a great idea. Apparently, cars are not like kids. One minute you’re driving through the countryside, rock music blaring, and thinking about how great life is, or would be, if I hadn’t decided to become a real estate agent just as the housing market decided to tank, and you start fantasizing about taking that special Hawaiian vacation.
Then the next minute? Your car makes a noise that you’ve never heard, and never want to hear, and suddenly you’re on the side of the road with smoke or steam pouring out of your hood.
Trust me. It’ll happen.
For some reason, I never have little problems like a loose bolt in the thing-a-ma-jig, or a floor mat that needs replacing. And so I wind up going to where I swore I would never go, the last time this sort of thing happened.
But the good thing about having your car break down every few years is that you do pick up an understanding of how car dealer mechanics work. I used to be a naive, hopeless customer that dealers immediately knew could be taken advantage of. No more. Take the last conversation I had when I brought in my car to my mechanic.
Me: Hi, my car is making a strange sound. I think it’s probably the camshaft or maybe the exhaust manifold.
Mechanic: You have no idea how a car engine works, do you?
Me (the trick is to sound confident): Of course I know how a car engine works. There’s the driveshaft torque, and the fuel injector sizing. And don’t forget goat power.
Mechanic: Do you mean horsepower?
Me: I was just testing you. Anyway, because I know so much about cars, that’s why I know you’ll quote me a fair price.
Mechanic: Sure, I’d just like half of your commission for the next five houses you sell.
And if you think I told him he was crazy, you’d be right. And if you think I settled for four houses, you’d be right. But I did get the mechanic to agree to let me have a loaner while my car was in the shop. That is, if you consider a bicycle with a flat tire a loaner. And even if it was three days of begging rides of friends and family, I did get my car back in working order. And if I was taken advantage of, I do think I was taken less advantage of the last time. That’s progress, isn’t it?
(Sigh.)
The next time my car acts up, maybe I should send it to its room.