I like to think of myself as a Renaissance woman. I know how to make doughnuts, I can install drywall, je parle un petit peu du francais. But there are a few things in life that leave me stumped. How to knit, for instance. How to dive without belly-flopping. And CARS. I know how to drive. I can parallel park, I know where the gas goes. I can check my oil and if truly hard-pressed I might be able to change a tire. But when it comes to the inner workings of an automobile, forget it.
It doesn’t help that cars nowadays are computers. I can’t fix my computer either, but I married an IT guy who sure can. My husband also can build and fix cars — but of the VW 70s variety, not these newfangled shiny whatsits you have to hook up to electronics to diagnose. Don’t get me wrong, my husband can fix A LOT of what goes wrong with our vehicles. But I think we’ve reached a point with Lil Blackie where professional resuscitation is in order.
