My Ride Had 'Coons - Raccoons - and I Needed Help

An automobile horror story

This is a recollection of my torment; installment loans and short term loans were used to protect an innocent vehicle.

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The blinking check engine light brought me prostrate, upon my knees. As I fought back the grief and tears, all I could do is croak, “Why hast thou forsaken me?” It all used to go down as smooth as a mint julep, whose recipe had been a family treasure since I was knee high to scavenging rodent.

Sure, mechanics say the first thing you should do is check your owner’s manual when this message lights up on your dashboard, but I always fancied myself as having an intuitive connection with the intimate internal doings of my vehicle. From the time I sat in the driver’s seat, turned the key and backed out of my driveway, I knew how she was doing. When I hit the highway, our conversation kicked it up a notch and we made a real connection. The feel, the sounds and smell all meant something to me. Idling, accelerating and taking hairpin turns were like our own little symphony, and I was Zubin Mehta. He’s a conductor, in case you’re wondering. People can love cars and Beethoven’s “Hammerklavier.”

Into the pit, the pendulum

And why should I bring my ride into one of those homogenized “Mickey Dee” lube shops when I can take care of it myself? I even installed a pit underneath the floor of the shop in my back yard. I always take care of my own.

This is why that little light hurt so much. What had I not done to keep her happy? Had I not loved her enough? Impossible! I wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t me; it was her. I’m trying to give you an idea of how low I went, because that last one was the grief talking. ... click here to read the rest of the article titled "My Ride Had 'Coons - Raccoons - and I Needed Help"