Another member of the family heads to Summerland.

It started a few days ago as a little rough running when the car was first started, which would smooth on out. Every engine has a rough moment, no big deal. Then it happened again, a little bit rougher and not going away. I pop the hood, fiddle with some sparkplug lines, and it smoothes out. OK. Then last night, whatever was attempting to give way, gave way. This was after work, and I had made it to Walmart without to much trouble, but then It starts up really rough, and a very sharp and loud, although perfectly rhythmic, tapping accompanies the engine sounds. Uh-oh! No amount of fiddling with the spark plug lines changes anything. Oh hell. On what felt like the missing horsepower of at least one cylinder, I make it across the road to the Ford repair place I have frequented before, which is closed this late at night, and head into the nearby Blockbuster video store to call the wife, who is thankfully already home with the newer vehicle.

This morning I head back and ask the guy at the desk if he could just listen to the engine and verify my fear that something major just happened to the car, major as in the cost of fixing it was probably going to exceed the value of the vehicle itself. He listened, opened up the oil cap and nodded his head, being able to see that the valve thingy right beneath the cap wasn't moving like it should. Yep. The old Ford Escort wagon, circa 1995, affectionately referred to as the "goatmobile", with more than 123,000 miles on her, had suffered a major mechanical stroke, and would not recover without some major high-tech intervention.

So, all I could do was once again call upon the services of Scott's Affordable Towing, upon whom I have relied upon countless times to haul my automotive fatalities around town, to come and take her back home, where she now sits until we can decide what to do with the carcass. What really galls me is that the day before I had just fed her gas tank 25 bucks worth of gas, which I will probably have to attempt to siphon back out, which if memory serves me right, will be an extremely ill-tasting experience. I never fail to get a mouthful of 87 octane trying to syphon gas.

So here we are back to relying on one car to get both of us to our respective jobs at differing times which is always a logistical nightmare. And the job that the goatmobile did with such aplomb, hauling garbage to the dump, large objects that don't fit in trunks well, and even animals such as goats, is now going to have to somehow be taken on by the Focus, which being a four door sedan, is not really cut out to do. Not to mention the smell that the one job can leave behind.

Things have really gotten tight for us in the finance department, so just strolling out and getting another car is a dicey proposition. I'm sure it could be done, with all these dealers practically guaranteeing that all you need is a pulse and say $99 and you get a car, but then the monthly payments have to be made, and that's the crux of the matter. Being less than brilliant with our finances and credit in the past has put us where we are today, along with those occasional disasters that eat money and paychecks that have not kept up with inflation, so to take on more obligations is not the smartest thing to do. So, looks like we are faced with a stretch of automotive roulette. I pray this Focus of ours is even half as stout as the goatmobile proved to be. She served us well, and I will not fault her the well deserved rest she so ably earned.

However, I will not throw in the wrench just yet. If this malfunction is purely mechanical in nature, and replacement parts can be had, with a determined and carefully approached dismantling of the top of this engine I might luck out and be able to access the offending piece of metal and somehow replace it. You mechanics out there might be chuckling at this idea, but what the hell, I don't have alot to lose. If nothing else, I get to see what the upper innards of a four cylinder fuel injected engine looks like. I do realize that the if the breakage occurred beneath the cylinder head, I'm probably screwed, because I am not equipped to break down an engine to that degree. But who knows, I have pulled off minor mechanical miracles in the past, without any prior knowledge of what the hell I was doing beforehand. Cross your fingers for me, guys.

So here's yet another adventure in the lives of lower-middle class America, those hardy souls caught between poverty and adequacy. If there's a silver lining to be found in this thunderstorm, it's that today I have something to post on a blog that is always struggling to remain on the favorites list of fine readers the world over. Well, a corner of the world, anyway.