Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Subaru...What Have the Miles Done to You?

Remember when I was sooooo impressed about my freshly colored hair and my full tank of gas in my car and my completed bachelor's degree?  Yeah, well, the universe got especially grumpy, and almost killed my little 104,000+ mile Subie. 

I was pulling out of my driveway to go to the gym (a "perk" of being unemployed...having the time), and my car had some issues going into gear (it's an automatic).  As I passed the village policeman on our street (waiting for stop-sign violators), I did not notice that he was trying to wave me down.  I pulled out onto Rt. 9 and chugged the .6 mile to the gym and knew that the transmission was very, very ill.  I did the next best thing...I chugged back home without the benefits of the elliptical or bike...or at least attempted to chug home.  My poor little car gave it up just as I was trying to make the turn after being a good girl and stopping at the stop sign.  That policeman came up behind me as white smoke wafted its way around and up my car.  He had actually tried to catch me because my car dumped tranny fluid right outside of my driveway...who knew, right?  Anyway, three burlie local policemen pushed my Subie to rest just across from our house and out of the way of traffic.  This is when membership in the AAA comes in handy...they towed it up to the Subaru dealer (less than two miles away), and left it for them to diagnose what happened.  My husband thought it was a hose -- hoped it was a hose -- and that it would be okay.  If not...and the transmission was crapped out...it would be a very bad thing.

Anyway, the diagnosis was that the radiator connection between it and the transmission blew and bled the fluid out...no damage to the transmission, and my car actually was fixed and the a/c and external thermometer work better -- my husband believes that when they did the work, they cleaned all connections, and the thermostat for the thermometer was a beneficiary for that -- I just know you were anxious to know that.

Oh, and no friggin' calls for interviews. 

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