Car Care Blues

As I was driving a few days ago, I noticed the battery light was on. This is never a good thing. "Oh, shit" I think was my exact thought.

My second thought was "Man, it's cold in this car." And that's when I noticed the heat wasn't blowing out. Thank God and the Bavarians for heated seats.

Looking it up in the owner's manual, they suggested that if the light stays on, either the alternator has conked out or the alternator belt has broken. Either of those being the case, you'd have thought the car would stop running, but it didn't. It stayed running (and cold) for a whole day.

Using my fine-tuned debugging skills, I drew a picture of what I guessed the electrical system looked like. One box was the battery, connected to another box that was the alternator, and a line coming from somewhere leading to whatever piece monitors all that, and a final line leading to the little lightbulb that kept glowing menacingly at me. I was hoping it was just one of those little lines leading between the boxes. Maybe a cable was loose! That would be relatively cheap. Wouldn't it?

So, I took it to the closest dealer in Clayton, while beforehand looking up a nearby coffee house. I was praying that somehow the heater and the light had the same cause, and thus fixing one would fix them both. I also figured, if I'm already going to have to clean out the savings, I might as well have them look at that odd clanking noise that happens whenever I hit a bump at 60, the one I'd been trying very hard to ignore.

I dropped the car off with Bob the, um, I think he had some kind of self-important title like Service Liason or some such. This BMW service center was something. The floors were some kind of tile that were very nice while still giving the impression of being rugged. Must have cost a fortune. It looked like you could eat off any surface in the place. And there was a gift shop for the poor souls for whom owning a BMW wasn't enough of an ego boost, and they wanted a monogrammed golf shirt and matching leather-billed baseball hat.

I gave Bob my three problems, and -- bless his heart -- he wrote on the top of the form, "Wait! Call before working!" with my cell number. I think this may have had something to do with the 99 cent dock worker-style stocking cap I was wearing that I'd bought 10 years ago at a 7-11 in Oklahoma.

Bob asked if I needed a loaner car. I said, "Nah, that's all right." Then I said that I was going to walk around the corner to a coffee shop, since I need the exercise anyway. Bob gave me a quick look to make sure I wasn't pulling his chain, then gave me his card in case it started raining or something, they'd give me a ride.

The look might have also had something to do with the fact that it was 19 degrees outside. I hadn't considered that when I was planning this the night before.

After a bracing 3/4 mile walk, I ordered a cup of generic house roast coffee (which was delightful), while trying out my new positive mental outlook. This worked very well. I kept feeling like I had a bright neon sign on my chest saying "This guy doesn't belong in Clayton*", which, since I don't belong in Clayton, is probably natural. Although unlike Bob, the bohemian coffee schleppers didn't seem to mind at all.

I read my copy of "Homage to Catalonia" by Orwell, and waited. And waited. And waited. After a couple hours, I called Bob and asked for an update. He said they're still looking at the suspension.

About a half hour later, I got the call. The good news was very good: one of the bushings in the suspension needed lubrication, which they were doing right then. Turns out there's a third kind of repair, the $50 repair that I'll probably never have again.

Then he dropped the hammer: Well, the good news on the light is that there's no problem with the alternator. Or the belt. Actually, the electrical system (as far as they can tell) was working just fine. It's just the bit of circuitry that monitors the alternator is kaputz. The bad news, that's not a cheap part. The worse news, to replace that part in involves taking off the dashboard. Which involves roughly 11 hours of labor. At BMW labor prices.

Then the second hammer: The blower resister had fried itself. This may or may not have happened at the same time the cirtuit panel blew up, but they're different parts. Once the resister was out, the blower wasn't long for this world. Those parts were actually more expensive than the above circuit.

The good news on that, such as it was, is that this would also involve taking off the dashboard, which I was going to have to do anyway. So, I suppose I save a bit on labor the fact that these two happened as close together as they did. Assuming their conking out simulateously was a coincidence, which it probably wasn't.

The heater blower wasn't in stock and wouldn't be until Wednesday, so I made my way through the biting cold to the service center. The car is completely drivable. In fact, if I can ignore the cold and the light, I don't actually have to repair anything. Although they can't be 100% certain on the alternator until they have the instrument monitor thingymabob fixed. Regardless, the car will probably propel itself and its freezing the driver just fine.

Thus, I was going to pick up said car, and schedule an appointment with Bob for next Wednesday. When I got there, I said to Bob, "Good news! I talked with my Mexican organ harvester, and he said he'll be able to buy my kidney on Saturday. So, let's schedule an appointment for Wednesday."

Bob was wholly unamused. I fought the urge to pull my collar nervously and say, "Is this thing on?"

Anyway, that's the story. Fortunately for me, I've tightened the screws on my budget such that I've saved up just enough to cover this. But this will still end up being catastrophically expensive.

But man, I do love that car.

* If you're familiar with Dallas, Clayton is basically two parts Highland Park and one part Addison.