grumble
A few weeks back, my transmission ceased working while I was climbing a hill on Highway 26. I got to the top of the Sylvan exit, and the car would move no more.
A lot of hand-wringing followed, and I ended up having the car towed out to a transmission shop in the suburb where I'm working these days. A grand later, and a replaced clutch, I drove it back home. And then the electrical entirely cut out. So I took it to a well-regarded shop in town. Another grand later, they say it should be able to limp along for another 30 to 50 thousand miles. Given that I drive about 6 thousand miles a year, that's a quite a long time.
I drove the car home, and the next time I got in, my check engine light was on. So I bring it back in. It can't be a big deal, right? Actually, it appears it might be.
I've been a little anxious lately -- I think I'm not getting enough exercise, not seeing enough friends, probably not getting enough sunlight -- just in general. I've been having a hard time shaking it. And this just doesn't help!
