Gotta love them auto-ma-cars!

December 22, 2003

Amaziningly enough, the Mustang has a tendency that seems unlike most mechanical objects I’m acquainted with, in that when something goes wrong it’s not a sudden, immediate failure, but a drawn-out process with a slow degradation. I speak, of course, of the latest in a long line of problems with the Mustang, the most recent of which affected my ability to fundamentally drive the car. It began sometime last week (well, now it’s a new week, so the week before last) around when I went out to the Rock Creek Tavern, and I commented to my Dad that the Mustang had been “lurching”, for lack of a better word. That is, driving and having the car slow down for no reason and then speed up suddenly, like the fuel stopped combusting in (or wasn’t getting to) the engine for a split second and then recaught itself. It did that a couple of years ago for awhile and my Dad blamed it on me putting the lead subsitute in the gas tank before I got to the station, but it didn’t seem like a problem that extended over multiple tanks of gas could be caused by that one incident. Regardless, it was doing it again occasionally.

The other problem I was experiencing was a problem with stalling. Now, I’ve been driving the Mustang for close to seven years now, and every time I start it cold it always takes two starts to get it going. My Dad teases me about how HE never had to do that when he was driving the car, but I found that if I start it, gun the engine so that it won’t stall, and then immediately go, it’ll stall anyway at the bottom of the hill by my Mom’s house. Nearly every time. So now I let it stall once in the driveway, restart it, no problem. Alas, I started experiencing stall problems more and more often. Stalling multiple times in the driveway, stalling at the bottom of the hill by my Mom’s house, that kind of thing. I wasn’t too worried about the bottom of the hill thing since as I said, it used to do that once in awhile anyway, but the frequency of the stalls began picking up, and soon I couldn’t keep the car running. At all. If I kept my foot on the gas pedal I could keep it running, but in the time it would take me to shift gears, take my foot off the brake, and step on the gas, it would stall. I couldn’t back out of the driveway, I couldn’t reach the end of the street, I couldn’t stop at stopsigns, I couldn’t stop at stoplights, and I basically couldn’t slow down. Well, that’s not true. I COULD do all of that, but as soon as my foot came off the gas, the engine shut off and I’m coasting with no power steering all of a sudden.

Let me tell you, that is the most annoying thing in the world a car could do. Plenty of gas in the tank, you know it can work…but it doesn’t. I finally pioneered a method to use two feet to start the car that sort of worked. I would keep my left foot on the brake and the right foot over the gas, and then quickly shift and jam my foot onto the gas. That’s the only way I could get anywhere. It took me perhaps 20 or more starts to get from the MAX station by my Mom’s house back home, and that’s only about 4 miles. I guess the cars around me were forgiving, but stalling while going around a corner isn’t the most fun thing to do.

I did get the car back to Lake Oswego, though. Technically *I* didn’t, but my Dad did. I told him I couldn’t do it and I would either have to have it towed somewhere or he could drive over in the Escape and HE could drive the Mustang back to LO with me following. He wasn’t too happoy with the idea of towing, so he came over, fiddled with the engine, and drove back with me bringing out the rear and a copy of the number for Speed’s towing in my pocket. He didn’t stall *once*. His fiddling with the engine, however, was to raise the idle level of the engine to its maximum, so it was chewing through gas while idling like there was no tomorrow. Basically like holding your foot on the gas all the time, but it did the trick. He said that on one street on our way into Lake Oswego, he was going 30 MPH with his foot completely off the gas pedal the engine was racing so much. Cool. Let me tell you, it’s a trip to see your car driving in front of you without you in it.

So obviously I”m back at my Dad’s now since the Escape has to be shared. As a side note, for some reason I started saying “Ess-COP-eh” instead of “Es-CAPE” yesterday and I couldn’t figure out why. Then I remembered the scene in Finding Nemo when Dory pronouncing the word “escape” that way. Weird how I just suddenly remembered that. Anyhow, I had to negotiate for the car to get to my job interview this afternoon. And no, I don’t know the name of the company because it didn’t say it in the posting, and no, I don’t know what the duties would entail because when they filled their application pool, they took down the posting. All I remember is that the title is “Operations Assistant”. I did get a call today from Martin Shane, the man I had the interview with at the Bridgeport Brewery a couple months ago. I had been waiting on hearing from his partner, but since he’d never called me apparently he gave Martin discretion as to what to do with me. That’s good news, I suppose, and so I may accompany him on a short business trip to Madras and Albany in early January–fully reimbursed, naturally. That might be some good news, so we’ll see how that shapes up.

My sister’s friend Jane has been here for the last couple of days, and so I’ve hung out with them a couple of times. Two nights ago they came and picked me up (since I certainly couldn’t go anywhere in the Mustang, at least not terribly easily and safely) and we went to a–wait for it–McMenamins. Originally we were going to go somewhere else and I jokingly suggested McMenamins since my sister and I go there for lunch so often (it’s close, it’s good, they serve good beer), and Jane said she’d actually rather go there than where we’d talked about before. No sweat. So we went to a different McMenamins than my sister and I normally go to. It was GREAT. Jane and I split a pitcher of beer since we weren’t driving, and I had a dish I’d been meaning to have there for a long time. We had a few good laughs, and then we cruised back to my sister’s apartment for a movie and an early present exchange (since she and Jane weren’t going to see each other on Christmas). Last night I met the two of them and my mother at at Washington Square for dinner at one of my favorite Italian places, Cucina! Cucina! It’s not an expensive, specialty place, and it’s not Olive Garden (which is good, but sort of generic), but they serve good food and have good atmosphere. I ended up with chicken pasmasean, a cup of minestrone, and a pint of beer. Beer with Italian food? Yes, I had beer with Italian food.

Today I’m heading out of here in the early afternoon to finish my Christmas shopping (hopefully in one stop) before or after my interview, and then after that I’m not certain. I may be back at my Dad’s house tonight, but I think it depends on how long the Mustang is going to take in the shop. Silly Mustang. Well, I guess back to cable television while I wait around to take off. Hmmm…I should probably shave, too….

Is it my imagination, or is it Christmas Eve eve eve? I do believe it is. Better finish what little shopping I’m doing. Later.

Posted in Beer, General