Isn’t it ironic? May 18, 2011Posted by Toy Lady in random stuff.
My life has become one giant irony opera.
I mentioned that we’d been doing a bit of scrambling with the Boy and his car trouble last week, right?
About how (oh! the inconvenience!) we dropped his (formerly Peeps’s) car at the shop, he took my car to work, and I took Peeps’s (formerly my) car.
The Boy’s car had some icky ignition problem – it required a distributor ignition thingy – a rotor or something.
I don’t really understand it, and I won’t, no matter how many times, or how intensely, they try to explain it. I’ve never really had to understand it, you see. I am the daughter and the sister of 3 professional mechanics – and the ex-wife of another hobbyist mechanic. Why should I have to understand any of that stuff? (For what it’s worth, I’ve never even changed a tire.)
All I know is that I was able to wheedle the shop into finding a re-spiffied cap rotary sparky thing while the Boy was at his first day of work (with my perfectly good car), and then, when I got home from work, I gave the shop a pile of money and drove it home for the Boy.
And all was well – for a week.
Until Peeps headed out for work this morning.
And the engine sounded . . . wrong. I mean, you can really hear the engine idle at 4:30 in the morning – and this was just . . . not good.
Then Peeps noticed that the “check engine” light was flashing.
Not just on – FLASHING.
This can not be good.
Away to work he went – baguettes and ravioli wait for no man.
Fortunately, he finished up early and stopped by the shop and talked to the mechanic.
Seems that he needed the same distributor spark rotor cap thingy that the Boy just replaced in his car, and he spent the better part of the day at the shop waiting for it.
I’m going to put a sign in the window of my car – No Boys Allowed. Sheesh.