Click and Clack?!

While I think it's pretty cool that one of the most popular shows on NPR is Car Talk, I certainly never expected my blog to involve so much talk about them! How banal, really, to talk about my junker. But in Costa Rica, talking about the condition of your car is akin to the British talking about the weather. Bad cars, bad weather: I guess whatever it is, as long as we share in each other's collective misfortunes, it's not quite so frustrating. Funny, perhaps, in retrospect.

So here we go: more car talk. Forget the time the car wash power-sprayed my engine so fiercely that my spark plugs were ruined and the car wouldn't start, leaving us stranded in a McDonald's parking lot until a mechanic on wheels came to help us. That was so last month's problem. Here's December's debacle: After a ridiculously long day of service, my roommate Kady and I were only a few miles from home when I heard that old familiar sound, the sound that strikes before the sensation: dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt.

What's that sound? What's that sound? Look out the window.

We have a flat tire. We have a flat tire! Um, Ok, pull over, we can do this. We are strong women, we can do this!

Kady, I don't want to change the tire on the side of the road in Costa Rica. Have you ever even done it?

Well, no, but I've seen it done. Where's the spare?

Um, it's that huge tire on the back of my car. Where's the jack?

I have no idea.

My unceasingly adventurous roommate thought that a perfect way to end the day would be a self-taught course in changing flats, but I ever so boringly reminded her that the tire-changing gas station was literally less than one block away. We'll bust out the tire iron next time Kady, I promise. Let's save it for when we're in the jungle with no AAA, no gas station attendants, and no male biceps.

The attendant told me my tire was irreparable, put on my spare, and gave me another junker in case of emergency. We were leaving for Panama the following day for two weeks, so I couldn't be bothered with any more problem solving.

Post-Panama, my car had a most disturbing wobble that worsened with every mile, so again, today, I took my car in. A friendly man at the auto shop (wait, who are you?) offered to test drive the car with me. Before I knew it, he was driving my car like a madman, spouting out all his theories as to what could be wrong so that he could tell the mechanic. Just as he was about to turn around, he asks if it's been hesitating during acceleration, at which point he goes even further down the road. I start to wonder if I've allowed a complete lunatic in my car and kindly remind him that my friends are meeting me at the auto shop in no time. GEEZ, buddy, ease up on the kindness, you're freaking me out a little.

After spending a day in the shop, my car was finally diagnosed. Any guesses on the problem? An ill-fitted spare. I should have known, right? So after sixty bucks and another used piece of junk, I've still got car problems, and I'm still in need of a new tire.

So how's the weather, anyway?