After work on Monday, I got in my car and started it up – and the check engine light came on. I guess that told me that I was done with the drive cycle. So, I took it directly to the mechanic and he looked at it for a bit, but then told me to come back the next day so that could work on it more. I left, feeling cranky. Or… more cranky than usual.
Today, I went into work and left at 11:00 to get the car looked at it again. I took myself for a walk and got something to eat – then settled in for a wait. Around 2 o’clock they finally gave up – the diagnostics were not matching the physical evidence. My car is apparently very stupid. Which I knew.
Fortunately, he didn’t charge me. Which was pleasantly surprising. Armed with the vague idea of a waiver and receipt from the last time my car was looked at, I went back to the echeck after work.
The first guy I talked to looked at the receipt and said that it should be fine but that I would need to talk to his manager. He then vanished – to be replaced by a guy who said my car had no data and I would need to drive it around and get it fixed. I told him that I had already done that and had a receipt for repairs that didn’t fix the problem. He was surprised at this revelation and left. From the other end of the repair area, another technician told me that my car had failed the test. I explained to her what was going and the second guy came back and they directed me to park my car and go into the office. It’s now 4:45 and I have a feeling that the office closes at 5.
I park my car, hurry in, and wait for the manager to see me. She looks at the receipt, says this should be okay, but that she would need for me to pop the hood so she could take a look. So, we go out to my car, I pop the hood and she looks around in there, then pronounces it good and we go back inside for her to print out the waiver.
Now, the mechanic only replaced the fuel pressure sensor – which rests on top of the fuel tank. By looking under the hood, she was nowhere near the actual repair. But I didn’t tell her that. Frankly, if she whipped out a car of pink spray paint and said she needed to paint a Hello Kitty logo on my hood before she could give me the waiver, I would have offered to shake the can for her.
So, waiver in hand, I head over to the BMV – which is still open. I wait in line for about a minute, then get called to the desk. She takes the paperwork, has me sign a form, updates my address and hands me the sticker for my registration. I was almost in disbelief that it came down to this. I asked her if there was anything else and she said I was done. I walked out of there feeling like I’d just gotten a golden ticket and was headed for the chocolate factory.
I put the sticker on my car tonight and breathed a deep sigh of relief. All that hassle and effort for a tiny sticker. And it wasn’t even scratch and sniff. If it was, I’m pretty sure it would smell like victory.