Car problems

Our '92 Chev Cavalier--"Beastie"--was nearing the end of his automotive life.

He was incontinent. We travelled up to my dad's, a five hour trip, through the kind of monsoon rain normally seen in Bangladesh. The next day, I went out to retrieve something or other and found about four inches of water sloshing around inside.

He had terrible circulation. The following winter, I went out for the ritual morning scrape one day to discover that the ice was all on the inside of the windows. That was about the time the heater failed. For weeks, I would scrape the inside of each window, causing little flakes of snow to shoof down on the dash, the seats, and my own head.

And he had age spots. Giant rusty age spots. Beastie, in short, was not aging gracefully. It was time to replace him.

But with what? We wanted a subcompact with excellent fuel economy and superior reliabilility. Research tended to confirm what we already suspected: an import was the way to go. Checking around on the net, I weighed the pros and cons of the Hyundai Accent and the Toyota Echo. We were pretty much sold on the Echo before we visited the dealership.

We've named this car Harold: Harold the Happy Homo. (Not that there's anything wrong with that....) Now you may well ask how we came to the conclusion that our car is gay. Very well, I'll tell you. It's a pretty small car...it came out of the closet, of course.
Further proof, if any is needed, comes when you honk Harold's horn. You get a feeble little meep! meep! A gayer noise has never been heard.
Then there's Harold's profile...his back end is up in the air like he's presenting. And the trunk! For such a tiny car, the trunk is positively cavernous. It's pretty obvious Harold was reamed but good before we bought him.

Harold's been pretty good for us the past three years. The fuel economy eventually lived up to expectations: at current prices, we spend less than $2.00 a day on gas. We've had a couple of small service glitches, both covered under warranty. By and by, he's a pretty good car.

Which is why I was shocked and very disappointed when the CHECK ENGINE light came on the other day. Harold, you naughty boy, I thought. You're damn lucky you're sick now, while your health care is still covered. One more week and the limited warranty would expire.
I got out of the car and fancied I could hear an ominous ticking noise coming from under the hood.
Now I must admit, shamefacedly, that I know almost zero about cars. I know how to check the oil and I know where the windshield washer fluid goes and I know the phone numbers of at least ten people who will help me with anything else. I figure that's all I really need to know. You know, since I don't actually drive and all.
We employed one of those phone numbers: the Toyota dealership. The service person there told us not to worry: we could bring the car in on Tuesday. He didn't think the problem was serious, whatever it was: Tuesday was five days away.
Tuesday was today.
Eva brought Harold in at lunchtime, with strict instructions to call me and tell me what the problem was and how much it would cost to fix it. (But Ken! Didn't you just say Harold was still under warranty? Yup, uh-huh, yessir, I did. And I knew damned well that whatever the issue was, it wouldn't be covered. Why would it be covered? This is my life we're discussing here.)

The call came through at 1:00 or so. Eva sounded royally pissed.
"Hi love," she said, royally pissedly.
"H-hi, love?.....Well?"
"It's a thousand dollars, and it's not covered."
Several hateful thoughts swirled around in my head, looking for a way out. Goddamn effing Toyotas, why the hell did we ever buy a Toyota, shoulda got a Ford, where the hell are we gonna come up with a thousand bucks?
"You're kidding, right?"
"The gas cap was loose YOU ASS!!!"
????????????
So help me God, for a second I wondered why it would cost a thousand dollars to tighten a flippin' GAS CAP. Then I wondered if "gas cap" was automotivese for some part of the tank, which obviously had to be removed, coated in solid gold, and replaced. Then I realized my wife was yanking my leg clean off. Oh-eff! eff! OFF!

Her entire office was laughing its ass off. At me. "Hey, " she said, laughing herself, "you think these guys are laughing? You should have heard the guys at Toyota."

She'll get hers. By God and Sonny Jesus, she'll get hers.