When Parking Your Car Becomes an Adventure

As I mentioned in my earlier post, I had to move my car today or risk a $67 ticket. Because I stayed up too late to get enough sleep before having to move my car, I decided to make it a semi-official all-nighter to avoid oversleeping and getting said ticket. In other words, sleeping in would have cost me $67.

Little did I know how my day would unfold.

9:30AM That $67 seemed a bit steep especially as the day was shaping up nicely, so I hit my car just before ticket time and headed up to Harriman State Park for lunch and to shoot some photos. After an uneventful 40 miles, I drove up to my usual spot just before the park to refuel my wallet, gas tank, and belly, in that order.

After filling wallet, gas tank, and finishing off a diet-unfriendly Burger King Whopper Jr. Combo Meal (with obligatory Diet Coke) I resumed driving to Harriman.

11:00AM After a brief return to the highway, I found myself approaching Sloatsburg, the village that immediately precedes Harriman State Park. Driving along, I felt the faintest of thumps. Potentially audible but really more of a tactile sensation - barely there - like hitting an already flattened patch of road kill. Seemed like nothing.

And just like that, the car felt totally different. The scarlet oil light drearily winked to life suggesting the festivities to come. Not wanting to be left out of the party, the cryptic check engine light arrived just short of fashionably late and quickly started glowing with its eager yellow anticipation.

I hit my hazard lights, and with near synchronicity, and a quiet sigh, my engine stopped and all my dash lights joined the growing party of lights en masse. With the steering now getting quite heavy, and my hazard lights blinking, I managed to coast to a stop on the side of the road in the middle of Sloatsburg, NY across from a small strip mall and the Sloatsburg Public Library.

Hoping that I somehow managed to only stall my car even though I wasn't clutching or shifting gears, I tried re-starting the car. The engine tried to oblige me and cranked with an odd sickly gasp, but refused to turn over. I stopped trying to start my car and started thinking.

My recurring thought was: what the hell do I know about cars? But, I figured I could at least look for the obvious maladies, so I popped the hood, got out and opened it. My search didn't reveal any missing belts, cables or hoses, and after a brief look at a fuse panel terrifyingly filled with all manner of little fuses, I abruptly stopped looking under the hood.




11:11AM What now, I thought. Well, of course the first thing to do is to call my insurance company so they can schedule a tow to the nearest service center. So, of course, I called my friend Mark instead. He's the previous owner of the car and I wanted to know if it had ever been so irresponsible during his ownership. He told me no, it hadn't, and suggested that perhaps my computer was dead and that I should call the insurance company for a tow.

11:22AM I called my insurance company and they arranged the tow. The operator let me know that the truck should be by in under an hour.

It is at this time that I first noticed several people waiting for a bus directly across the street.

It is also at this time that I've noticed several police cruisers pass me by without so much as an iota of "protect or serve". Not even a drive-by "Hey, you ok?" or "Do you need a tow?" This lack of proper cop behavior was starting to make me angry and my anger was only increasing after each silent drive-by.

11:59AM The dispatcher from Dom's towing called me to let me know that the truck should be there in under 30 minutes and that the truck will be delivering me and my car to Paul Miller Toyota; the nearest Toyota dealership.

I ask him politely if I could change that 5-10 mile tow to a 60-70 mile tow to get me and my car to my personal mechanic, Greg, in Queens.

The dispatcher then either painfully experienced or masterfully feigned apoplexy. He subsequently informed me that he didn't have the time at this late stage of the day to commit a truck to so distant a locale.

Still wondering if I could get my car to Greg, I asked the dispatcher if he could give me a hypothetical estimate for a tow to Queens. Keeping in mind my budgeted estimate of $100-$150 for the tow, I waited for his rough quote. When he said, "About $350." I said "Paul Miller it is!"

12:20PM Well it seems taking the bus in Sloatsburg is actually worse than having a broken-down car, because those same people are still waiting for the bus. Considering I had a tow truck scheduled to arrive within the next 10 minutes, and they had no bus in sight.




Of course, after expressing my rising anger towards the Sloatsburg police to my friends on the phone, several of the cruisers that had passed me by earlier now came by one-by-one and asked me if I was ok and if I had a tow truck on the way. They were all helpful and pleasant -- one even called his dispatcher to try to expedite my tow appointment.

I had a not-entirely unpleasant instant attitude adjustment where on the one hand my anger morphed into guilt and my loss of faith in humanity was transformed into... well, it was mostly guilt I was feeling.

1:00PM Taking the bus in Sloatsburg is not worse than having a broken-down car because the bus just came and went, all those waiting passengers are gone, and I'm the sucker still waiting for his tow.

1:15PM My tow truck arrived, he apologized for making me wait, I apologized for calling the cops on him. All is well and he starts rigging my car up to ride the big, fun flatbed.

The highlight of my day was getting to ride in the truck and noticing that it was a manual transmission with 7 forward gears (pathetic but true.)



He asked me what happened with my car, and after I described it to him, he suggested the timing belt might be the culprit. We arrive at Paul Miller Toyota, fill out some paperwork, and I gave the driver a $10 tip. He seemed genuinely happy with it, but I couldn't tell if it was too little or too much as I always agonize over tips.

1:45PM After informing the service staff of my predicament, they happily offered to help but sadly couldn't promise full diagnosis let alone complete repair before close of business at 6:00PM. Still, knowing my car is seeking help for its problems and not lashing out at others makes me feel better. But my car had one final bout of willfulness when a paperwork mix-up left me holding my car key as mechanics were trying to move my car to a diagnostic bay.

In the distance I could hear a car alarm braying like a donkey. Not sure at first that it was my car, after all this was a Toyota dealership and my alarm is factory installed, I soon got the sinking feeling that, of course it was my car. I ran to the mechs frantically pressing my key fob until the car finally fell silent.

2:47PM After waiting in the service lounge for an hour, watching Elvis scratching backs and flying helicopters in Paradise, Hawaiian Style, composing notes of the day for this blog entry, and wondering: What’s wrong with the Camry? Computer, fuse, sensor, timing belt, something else? Something worse? I got the news:

It turned out to be the timing belt. But the dealer wanted to do so much more for me. Instead of just $340 for the belt, why not fix everything that sits near the belt for $688. And, instead of just spending the $688, why not replace a few oddly named engine mounts and random gaskets too -- for a grand total of about $1,700.

After talking with Mark, Greg and my currently working credit card, I decided that I'd like the dealer to repair only the timing belt and I'd leave the rest (if there really is any) for Greg to investigate at a later time.

4:40PM I've been waiting for my repair to be finished for about two hours, watching the end of Paradise, Hawaiian Style and the beginning of the 1988 Justine Bateman opus, Satisfaction. Both oddly calming. I applaud and thank the AMC channel for contributing positively to my day.



Finally in my lightly sleep-deprived state I see my car pull up to the service entrance under its own power. I pay for the repair, thank the techs, mechs and staff, and get in my car after what feels like an excessively long day.

I'm really only thinking about a two things at this point:

First, Elvis was one cool cat.

And, Second, after all this, my little Tuesday adventure in Sloatsburg...

Maybe I should have just slept in.

-Bike