Car problems, common sense and computers A STORY WORTH TELLING
“If your doctor’s last name is Google, it’s time to get a second opinion.” — Toni Bernhard
It was past dark thirty. We were still 20 miles from home, driving and passing the time by doing what we all ultimately do sometime in life — talking about the weather, aches and pains, and doctor’s appointments.
We were reassuring each other that age has nothing to do with any of it.
“What’s this?” I said. Amber warning lights interrupted the peaceful glow of dim green dash lights.
“I don’t know,” my friend said. It was her car, but I was driving.
Processing the situation, I tried offering assurance. “It’s an amber checkengine light, not red.
That just means have your car checked at your first opportunity.
We’re OK.”
It sounded good. But it’s funny how issues that seem minor in the light of day command a higher level of concern at night depending on how late at night and how many miles to home the GPS is reporting.
She was searching the owner’s manual for clues, for anything about a warning light with a tiny car symbol looking like a drunk driver all over the road. We stopped in the light of a convenience store, which afforded us time to convince each other the odds were good for making it home without further incidents.
As I drove, I thought about diagnosing car problems back in the day of keeping my first car running. That involved getting me to classes, my after-school job and cruising the Mount Pleasant main drag between the Dairy Queen on the north side and Bobby Joe’s on the south side.
The sign on top of what we called Bobby Joe’s read Dairy Mart or something similar.
Nobody remembers that name. Our classmate’s family owned it, so we referred to it as Bobby Joe’s. Keeping your car running to get there was important.
But auto maintenance was easy then.
Keep gas, oil and tire pressure levels in range and listen for weird noises. Those noises, not computers, usually provided a good clue regarding the nature of the problem.
Being young and fearless also added a notch to one’s confidence level.
A 60-mile road trip to the drag races in a worn-out but presentable ’55 Chevy with a warmed-over Corvette motor that I had owned all of two weeks? No worries.
Never mind that I knew nothing about the $250 car, other than it was wicked fast. I had learned the gas gauge and dash lights didn’t work.
No problem, though.
I filled the tank with 29-cents-a-gallon high test, and we headed for Interstate 20 Raceway.
The daylight trip down was uneventful. Then, on the way home about 10:30 p.m., neighbor and friend Ronald Rust asked, “How fast are we going?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t see the speedometer.”
He leaned down, nose close to the dash.
The only light glowing was the red high-beam indicator.
“What’s the top number on the speedometer?” Ronald said.
“I think 110.”
“Must be doin’ 115 then. I can’t see the needle.”
“Naw,” I scoffed. The car sounded good, but darkness began creating noises in my mind.
I backed off the accelerator, even though I still didn’t think we were going that fast.
Noises and a little common sense made car care relatively easy in those days. Now, mechanical contrivances controlled by computers and electronics complicate common sense.
For instance, YouTube videos the next day offered headscratching remedies to my friend’s problem.
The drunk-driver warning light indicated a problem in how the computer distributes power to the wheels.
The warning could be, according to the video, caused by improper pressure in the tires, potholes in the road or a faulty gas cap.
Faulty gas cap? Yep, that’s somehow in the same computer circuit as air pressure and potholes.
By the time I watched the video the next day, the warning lights had gone away as quickly as they had appeared and are still gone as I conclude this column. A trip to the dealership is planned, however, for a professional second opinion with computer codes to suggest repairs or replacements.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could be like cars?” my friend mused.
I wasn’t connecting the dots.
“You know, for aches, pains and illnesses,” she said. “Just show up at the doctor’s office. Let them check your computer codes, make a technical repair or replace a faulty part, and you’re good for another 10,000 miles.”
I think she may be on to something.
—Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
