I mentioned before that my car bit it the other day. A broken thermostat (I think). A $30 part.
Here’s the problem, though: I could totally replace it myself. Except I don’t have a garage, and the prospect of working on my car outside in this weather is less than ideal, especially because I’d have to drain the coolant before doing anything. Drive it to a garage? Tried it on Tuesday. This is how it went:
Adam gets into car, starts it up fine because it was plugged in. Adam scrapes off windows, making it almost possible to see out the windshield. Adam climbs into car and scrapes inside of windshield as well. Adam begins driving, hunching over with chin almost resting on steering wheel so he can see through the narrow gap on the windshield that isn’t completely frozen. After about 600 metres of 20 kph through the neighbourhood, Adam realizes there’s no way he can get his car the 13km to the west end to have it serviced. Sadness abounds. Adam turns back, parks car, and spends rest of the day in his pyjamas.
I might have my brother pull the car to his house with his truck, put it in his garage (which is about -10°C rather than -27°C) and work on it there on the weekend. Or I’ll have her towed to the dealership sometime in the next few days. I haven’t decided yet. Either way, my car—dear, sweet Chloe—is parked. I need to go out there later to see if she’ll even start. I’m not hopeful.
Thank gods the bus service is superior in my neighbourhood, or else I’d be right fucked. Also, I need to buy cat food.