It’s $121 to fix the broken wire. That was a steal next to the $300 or $400 more it would cost to also replace a sensor on my Honda. And that extra, no guaranteed fix. Stu said there was no code to explain why I had to push twice to shut off the engine. Like the less-than-god doctor, my mechanic guessed a cure for my symptoms. “ll just wait,” I decided. Wait until that time when the car won’t shut off. Wait until that time when it only stopped because I ran out of gas. Then I’ll fix it. Look for answers.
A week ago the ABS, skid and steering icons lit up in unison on the dash. Then the car took two pushes of the button to shut off. I wanted to blame Cary for those problems. After all, she was driving when they lit up. She was the messenger of bad news.
The car’s a joint venture in my name. I pay for the repairs. Except that time she hit the sidewall on a curb and offered to buy a replacement. And how could I give her hell? I’d done it too. More than once. Two at one time when I dropped off the washed-out jagged berm of a country road. I couldn’t even leak my way home. Instantly deflated!
Stu called, “Your car’s done.” And everything’s fixed. The broken wire for the ABS also fixed the ignition button. Who guessed their connection? The mechanic didn’t. He seemed amazed and perplexed. Shouldn’t the schematic lesson of that car earn me a reward? After all, it was my car taught the mechanic something new.