
The week might not have gone according to plan, but my neighbor’s trees were beautiful. I took this picture before yesterday’s storm which brought rain and heavy winds. Today, those trees are mostly bare again.
Things don’t always go according to plan.
I was proud of myself, since I had been doing a fine job of adulting. I survived my colonoscopy and was told that I thankfully don’t need to repeat that tricky procedure for another ten years. I also had remembered to call my mechanic for an appointment to get my car’s oil changed. It’s not always easy, arranging that regular maintenance. You have to call a few weeks in advance to set up an appointment and then have to figure out a way to get your car there and somehow get home again. I usually try to leave my car the day before my appointment. They work on it the next day, and with any luck, I can take our town’s little bus the following morning to pick it up, saving a friend the task of giving me a ride there. Except this time, I had to do a massage at 8:30 in the morning. My town’s bus doesn’t pick me up until 8:00 am. Thankfully, I had a friend who was heading that way in the morning and didn’t mind dropping me off at the garage to pick up my car.
Also, slightly alarming, was that my sweet dog Biscuit was coughing—a strange kind of choking noise. He was eating and drinking normally and seemed alert and generally fine, but I was concerned. I called his vet at 7:30 am when they open and got a “drop in” appointment, the kind where you bring your dog in early, they look at him when they can, treat him as needed, and release him back to you the same day. They don’t always have these spots available—what luck!
It was a great plan! Everything should have been fine.
My friend picked Biscuit and me up in plenty of time. We even had a chance to stop for a breakfast bagel from the nearest local coffee shop. I arrived at my mechanic’s shop, and since I had already paid the day before, I got in my car, started it up, and drove away. I was about 200 yards away from the shop when my check engine light started flashing.
This is never good, friends.
My mechanic tells me that a solid “check engine” light is one thing. It usually means an emissions issue. But a blinking one—that means stop what you are doing, pull over, and get towed to the shop.
Luckily, I had barely left. I did a U-turn and said, “Hi again! My check engine light just started flashing.”
It was early in the morning, folks. The shop owner was there, drinking his coffee. He said, “I was just thinking about what I was going to do first today.” Apparently, I provided an immediate answer. And this is just one reason why I love my mechanic and the Applegate Garage: he was on it. He didn’t sigh and tell me he was busy and to check back later. He pulled out his rolling sensor kit, headed to my car, and checked the codes.
Unfortunately, there were codes.
Codes are no fun.
I was hopeful that maybe someone who changed the oil loosened a screw or something?
“There is no way this could be connected to the oil change,” he reported.
Oh dear. Continue Reading…







