For the past few weeks, our dinosaur of a minivan would die while driving. We could usually get someone to jump us off but it became more of a hassle and worry than it was worth. Could it be the battery? Could the transmission be failing? Could it be the spark plugs? Turns out, it was neither. It was something about a water pump and a sensor. I might be somewhat of a woman greasemonkey, but I had no clue what those were. I still sorta don't. But my dad's boss and a mystery mechanic, whose name I never got, figured out what it was and spent all week trying to fix it. I was worried it would never get fixed and we would have to live with the problem forever. I can't remember why it didn't get fixed the first night, but they finally "finished" last night, after us shelling out about 75 bucks for a part and antifreeze.
This morning, Dad went to Walmart only to text me that the van had died- again. That sensor that was getting splashed by the faulty water pump never got replaced. Once again, I have no clue what that means. But apparently, it needs to be replaced tomorrow.
About Thursday, I received a package from UPS of deliciousness for me to review. I won't tell you what it is because it would ruin the surprise, but I will tell you that without it, I would have lost what marbles I have left.
Cars aren't supposed to cause you stress, even if that vehicle is over 1000000 years old.