Most certainly do I wish that I had been born mechanically inclined. I envy those folks who shrug their shoulders or even express a little glee when something needs fixing on their automobile.
I drive a 10-year-old Toyota pickup. While such pickups are very rugged and tend to hold up over time and mileage, they do have problems every once in a while. I don’t know what 10 years is in automobile age, or specifically, small truck years, but I would guess it to be the equivalent of being 50 years old in human years. If that is the case, then I am breaking down physically much faster than my Tacoma. Two spinal surgeries, I would think might be a human equivalent of a couple of Tacoma transmission replacements. I have had the former but, knock on wood, not the latter.
Today’s problem is seemingly minor, I hope. The hardest thing has been trying to determine just what the hell the part is that has failed. Basically, it is what makes — or in my case doesn’t make — my passenger-side door close. Looking online I have found various terms which might describe it. Oh well, I’ll figure it out in awhile or ask my neighbor, who is a mechanic.
The latest problem points to the fact that I need a newer, if not new, vehicle. The problem is paying for it. The cash for clunkers program will be no help. I just ran my information through and found that my truck was supposed to get 21 mpg. It might still, I don’t know. But eventually I will have to get a new truck or, God forbid, car. Maybe some auto dealer will see this and want to work out a trade for advertising. Hey, I’m game though I will not hold my breath.
In the meantime, I will have to determine just what the part is called that needs my immediate attention and get it shipped here post haste. I have a feeling driving around holding my door shut will quickly lose its quirky appeal.