Almost two years ago today, I made the biggest mistake of my life. And no, it was not the perm. I actually really liked the perm and might get another one some day.
No, it was the perm that made me do, it. At least that’s what I like to tell myself. You see, two years ago I decided I wanted a perm, and because it was income tax season, I had the money to do so. Yes, it has to be income tax season for me to do drastic changes to my hair. That’s when it was for the purple and blonde hair. Because I am the type of person who will go for months on end and not get a haircut because I hate spending the money on it. I don’t hate spending money, its spending it on certain things.
So, it was the drastic change of a perm, and the confidence that said perm gave me, that made me want to make the biggest mistake of my life. And said mistake has four wheels, a pretty green paint job, and a check engine light.
See, this beautiful beast of a truck was purchased on a whim. She was not my first choice. The truck I was eyeballing in the salon chair while inhaling perm chemical fumes was a GMC Sierra. It had more miles than this one. And I went down to the car lot not half an hour after getting my hair done. But it was taking forever to get my credit check to go through, so we left.
And then the dude called me, at work, the next day and said he had a better truck for me.
And oh did he.
The check engine light came on twenty-four hours after I signed the papers.
Later that year the battery terminal messed up and we had to change that out.
Then the next January it died while i sat in the parent pick-up line waiting on my child.
I have barely driven it for the bulk of 2023. Because On February 7, at the bottom of the hill my workplace sits on, just as I was turning into a curve, it died. I only knew it died because the steering tightened up and the breaks were hard to push. I managed to get it off the road, mostly (and into mud). I called my husband because I was afraid to start it and get it up the hill without back up, and I message my manager letting him know I’d be late.
On the way home that day it died four times.
My brother-in-law (he might never know how much I appreciate him) and my sister and the kids, came to the house so he could look into it. First, we thought it might be the fuel injector that we discovered was out on it the last time it died (parent pick-up). Then after putting it on a scanner, he said it was probably a thing called the ignition coils. And you could only get two of them or eight. So we got eight. For $254.39. He put them on a while later. And I managed to drive it to work for two days, before it died again in an S curve in downtown.
Again I called my husband, we pulled the think into parking lot of a for sale business, and I left a note in the windshield that said, “Truck is dead please don’t tow.” He drove me to work, and that evening we got it out of the strange parking spot and left it at his mother’s place of residence.
The next day, a Sunday I believe, I drove it home. I vaguely remember making it all the way home without it dying. But it was mostly because I was filming the entire event and it wanted to prove me wrong and make people think I was crazy. I am crazy but its the truck that’s making me crazy.
Eventually, BIL got the ignition coils put on, and I was able to drive it to work for a few days before it died again on February 17th. At this point, after the ignition coils, the assumption was the problem must be spark plugs and the fuel injector, for which there was a previous code. On February 24th, he bought and put on the spark plugs and the fuel injector, which I’d already had. I drove it to work two days. On the second day, I was IN MY FLIPPING DRIVEWAY and it died.
That was the last day I drove it. Until March 1st when I picked my sister up and she came to the house and helped my clean out my garage so I could pull the enormous hunk of junk into it so I didn’t have to look at it anymore.
On Monday, March 25th, he installed a new $180 fuel pump because that was the next only possible solution, and it turned out that might not have been the problem. Keep in mind, the thing has barely been driven for more than a few days at a time.
On friday (yesterday) he came and fiddled with it a bit, because when you put on a fuel pump on a 2012 Dodge Ram, when there’s about three quarters of a tank of gas in it, its “easier” to take the BED OF THE TRUCK OFF, which is a nerve wrecking experience in and of itself and get to the fuel pump than dropping an almost full tank.
He put on some nuts and bolts and taillights that he didn’t get back on previously because it was getting late and messed around with it some more. He took it for a drive (i nearly tinkled when he hit 60 on a two-lane road, I usually don’t go over 35 on) just to see if he could copy what it does.
Of course he wasn’t able to recreate the incident, because the truck gets shy and doesn’t want to show off. And prefers for me to look like a lunatic.
The best he could figure that maybe it was a little low on transmission fluid, and maybe needed a little oil (she needs an oil change but you can’t get that done when you can’t get very far).
So, I bought both of those things today, and put them in with some frustration.
Listen, the fact of the matter is this: I love driving my truck. I feel safer than I was in my little car, like no one can get me. If I were to encounter the stupidest thing on four legs, a deer, I would be more likely to win in that battle in my Dodge Ram, than I was in a Chevy Cobalt. Its also a beautiful automobile, and I was always proud to say it was mine.
When it ran right.
When you are driving along, minding your own business, and your steering gets stiff, you lose juice, and you have to try to steer your way off the road safely, its nerve wracking. When you live in an area like I do, and there’s an uncanny number of either rock walls or drop offs into rivers protected only by guardrails that may or may not be dug into eroding hillside, it’s scary not knowing when you might lose power. The last time I drove this truck very far i barely let it get over 40 miles per hour because I was scared.
And for some reason I decided to try and drive it to work tomorrow.
To be honest I am scared shitless. I don’t want to risk having to pull off in a questionable spot. Luckily the drive TO work is the rock wall side. There’s a few places before you get to downtown that would be okay places to pull off. But just thinking about it is really scary, and I don’t want to do it.
As I have discussed her many times, I am not a praying woman. I am not religious at all, mostly because I don’t know what to believe. But after the over $700 in parts and labor I’ve put on that truck in the first four months of this year, I am praying that it gets me to and from work tomorrow.
And the next day I have to take The Kid to an appointment. I really mad at myself that I forgot about that. The appointment is all the way in another county. Like, half an hour’s drive, on the highway.
This is really just a therapy post, for me. I know I’ve said a million times that I’m going to stop posting personal stuff here. But that truck really is feeling like the dumbest decision I’ve ever made. And I really need something to go right for me.