Car bitching, #7,201

For the record, I officially regret purchasing my 2003 Mazda6.  For the record, I wish I plunked down the $1,500 last year, and replaced the O2 sensor on my prior SR20 Sentra, and probably kept driving it for at least another 20,000 miles, without any car payments, to this point.  But I was cash-strapped and foolish back then.  And compared to now, when I’m still cash-strapped, but feeling more foolish, and factually handcuffed to the remainder of my car loan that I will have the uphill battle in trying to eliminate before seeking out a new car.

If all goes well, this weekend, I’ll test drive a car, that isn’t too expensive, has anywhere from 50-62% of the power output of the lemon, but 25% better fuel economy, and isn’t, well, the lemon.  And then hopefully sooner, rather than later, I’ll sign my balls away for 60 months, but at least have a brand new car, that I won’t have to fret and worry about, for at least one full year, hopefully.

But for the record, the acquisition of the lemon, certainly goes up on the list as one of the biggest mistakes of my life, and I’m not just being dramatic.  I consider it an invaluable lesson learned –  that mechanics are incompetent, CarFaxes are bullshit, and strange haji Middle-Eastern rock-lot dealers have the power of the genie’s lamp to make any car seem better than it really is for at least a few months, before it turns back into putrid garbage.  For the record, I wish I plunked down the money to fix my old car, and kept it, or at least used it then, to have acquired a brand new, reliable car, that I’d have already paid 15 months of my car loan off by now, instead of the lemon.

I don’t often have many regrets, but damn is this certainly one of the biggest.

Here we go again

Yesterday, right as I rolled into Zombieland, the odometer on the lemon struck 100,000.  This is now the third car I’ve now pushed over the 100,000 mile plateau.  Granted only one of them was genuinely my own 100,000 (and 200,000) miles, but for what it’s worth, my current car, the lemon, is now officially considered worthless, as many cars are seen as damaged goods once they start utilizing the sixth digit.

And in my case, as evidenced by the ominously glowing check engine light that I’m flicking off, the lemon actually is damaged goods at this point.  Later on today, I’m taking my car into, of all places, the stealership, because I’m tired of local, independent mechanics not knowing what to do with my car, and I’m blindly putting faith in the notion that Mazda mechanics that work at a Mazda dealership’s service shops, might actually know what to do with my Mazda.  To add to the irony of the whole situation, I went and got the diagnostic code pulled from an AutoZone, which came out to be P0421 – in Mazda-speak it means catalytic converter problem, or something breathing related, as it pertains to the engine.  To which the added irony is that such symptoms was what my old car’s check engine light was coming up as.

Either way, congraturation to me, for driving around yet another car with a billion miles on it again.  As great as it would be for this one to also reach another 100,000 miles, I sure as shit wouldn’t bank on it.

Technicalities

Apparently, Deadspin is the only place left that it can really be seen, since YouTube has pretty much 86’d all the versions of it there.  Long story short, for some reason scrawny, little kid picks fight with much, much bigger kid.  Bigger kid absorbs a few blows before finally snapping, before grabbing the whelp, and slamming him to the ground violently.  Deadspin called it “a body slam,” but this commenter literally almost had me in tears:

BufordJustice Mon 14 Mar 2011 12:36 PM

Technically that was more of a Ron Simmons-style Dominator but I guess to the average layperson a “body slam” would suffice.

/goes back to reading PWI. (Edit comment)

hahahaha, he’s so right.

One point, for SkyNet

Despite my paranoia that SkyNet will eventually take over the planet, I have to admit that SkyNet has its merits from time to time, in the present.  In recent travels, the hour change of daylight savings, combined with a slight hangover resulted in me missing a flight outright, to get back to Atlanta, from Charlotte.  No problem, all I had to do was speak to someone, and re-list for the next flight out, bing, bang, boom.

I get to the airport, and since everything is pretty much kiosk-based these days, I have to go to the “special services” desk, since re-listing and outside of conventional circumstances still require human assistance.  There’s an elderly couple being helped ahead of me, so I’m feeling good that I’m not in the 24-persons deep line for the luggage-checking kiosks.  After the first five minutes, with absolutely no progress, I begin to ponder what could possibly be the delay.  I glance up at the couple, and the body language being exhibited by the female is not positive; she is looking off, and shaking her head in agitation.  Hubby appears to be holding an envelope from another airline; I’m guessing that there’s a co-op/affiliate flight swap going on – in other words, not an easy task, and necessitating various checks, steps outside of protocol, and likely authorizations.  The sole employee handling this task looks absolutely none too pleased herself, and it’s written all over her body language.  Sour expression, slight sneer, lethargic body movements, hating the world.

At this point, I realize that I had a choice to make – stay and wait for Grumpquisha De’Grumperton to do her job in a timely manner, and hope for friendly customer service when it’s finally my turn, or remove people out of the equation entirely, get on my phone, and front the cost for a one-way ticket, and then deal with the refund process of my missed flight, from the convenience of my own home, at a later time, but, get a confirmation right then and there, and allow me to get my boarding pass from one of the carry-on only kiosks instead.

Needless to say, I stayed in line, and proceeded to purchase my one-way ticket, hoping that the couple in front of me would finish up before I did.  But when it didn’t, as soon as the confirmation code generated on my phone, I ditched the line, and went to the kiosks, got my boarding pass, and was on my merry way.  Removing humans from the equation altogether made life expediently better, rather than dealing with a disgruntled employee.

Photos: Grapevine’s Beertopia

This photo really does say it all – chicks pretending it’s actually St. Patrick’s Day, brahs photobombing, my brother, myself, and even my camera itself, unsettled, wobbly, and drunk, for the third annual Grapevine Beertopia, down in South Carolina.

Lots of different brews sampled and enjoyed, and without failed, pretty much everyone got hammered in the process.  In other words, it was a lot of fun.

Continue reading “Photos: Grapevine’s Beertopia”

Yet more car irony

Last year, I exhibited a bit of urgency in selling my old car and acquiring what I’m driving now, because of time-sensitive nature of the necessity of emissions testing and car tag renewals.  I had a check engine light on in my old Sentra that was O2 sensor-related; both circumstances which would have easily led to failing any emissions test, that would have necessitated an expensive repair of the O2 sensor, for a car on its last legs.  So in a way, it was a persistent check engine light that ultimately resulted in the decision to get a new car.

Today, coming home from the airport in the lemon, the check engine light came on while I was driving through a Dunkin’ Donuts for some coffee.  Yippee.

I’m hoping it’s just a false alarm from god-knows-what reasoning, and that it’ll be gone the next time I start up my car, but I really highly fucking doubt it.  And the best part is that I still have two years left to pay on this piece of shit, so no escape clause available this time around.  Just can’t win with the lemon, apparently.