we all have quirks down here

     My car is a hot mess, but we all knew that.

    As I'm typing this, I'm slamming three White Claws down, by the way. I hate today, and I hate things I have to think about. No one judge me. I don't drive, I just sit in my room and watch my comfort shows. Right now it's Superstore.

    Anyway, Dani is a mess, but who isn't?

    My sister likes to slam Dani the way I slam alcohol-- quickly, and harshly, and both end with a simmering burn in my stomach that likes to linger.

    If it's not the jokes about my car being a death trap, it's the jokes about the amount of repairs. If it's not about the repairs, it's about the way I drive her. If it's not about the way I drive, it's about the way I worry about her. The way I value her.

    My sister drove Dani before I got her rotors fixed. I had driven my sister's car to work until I could fix Dani's rotors, and my sister realized she needed her car to bring it to her dealership for something, and drove Dani to my work so we could switch. Thus began the death trap comments.

    Then I started the repairs, ensuring a decently smooth ride for a 19 year old. Cue the jokes about the money spent. "You could've taken that and bought a new car," she says snidely.

    Yes, my answer is. I could've. But would I know as much about cars then? Dani has taught me so much in so many different areas of life. I wouldn't have had that knowledge or growth without her. I am proud of those repairs, damn it. I am so proud. I am so goddamn proud. I look at my hands, the black stains on them when I crawl underneath her or poke around, and I am so motherfucking proud. I earned those stains. I earned them.

    When I stopped hard accelerating because my mechanics said it would extend the life of the cylinders? "If I want you to do something, I'll just have your mechanics say it'll help your car."

    My car is an investment. She represents something that is mine. Something that I have put time and money into. Why wouldn't I listen to the people, the experts, on her?

    Today, I came home, excited because I figured something out.

    The AC control head was replaced recently, and Alex showed me the differences between the two: my old one was loose, and had sunflower seeds???? in it, and the pulley system was bent; the new one had a nice pulley system, no sunflower seeds, aaaaand... was still kind of loose, but not loose enough where it wouldn't help.

    It turned out that the third setting gave out on me. Whatever, 1, 2, and 4 are more than I had before, and 4 is at least a constant signal now. I just don't use 3.

    Back to my excitement. I realized that when I use setting 4, I have to have the dial turned to heat. Why? I couldn't fucking tell you. What I can tell you is that the temp is lukewarm at best on cold, and coldest on the hottest indicator. Why would I care, if it works?

    Dani has her quirks. We all fucking do. If I figure it out, and she runs well, why would I care? I have quirks. I run poorly. I would hope that someone would tolerate my quirks as nicely, since we all fucking have them.

    At the same time, I was testing her fuel pump. I had recently gone to IKEA-- holy shit the bruises all over me-- and for some reason she had trouble going over 55mph on the freeway. I had that tachometer almost at six, was flooring the gas pedal, and she would not go over 55mph until a random power surge. I keep having random power surges, and she hesitates to start. I know Alex said that hesitating of 3 cranks or less is normal for old cars, but mine has always been quick to start, so I know something's wrong. But Alex says they can't do anything unless they experience it.

    Unfortunately, for all that I love her, Dani's a bitch, so every time my mechanics have their hands on her, she starts first crank.

    Bitch.

    The only thing that fits these symptoms is the fuel pump. I'd asked Parra's Auto Repair to look at it, and Chris assured me that he would, but... fucking doubtful.

    So I ran one of those home tests: open the gas cap, turn the car on but not the engine, and listen. But I'd never heard a fuel pump run, only what I imagined it would sound like, so I didn't really hear anything. Unless I'm deaf. I could have crawled under and listened, but I had to put my groceries away and decided I could take her in on Saturday.

    Okay, so you know when a car is first turned on, all those lights come on and then disappear?

    Mmmm, all the lights stayed on, when I had the car on but the engine off. Except the airbag light, which is the only one, coincidentally, that stays on slightly longer than the rest when the engine is on.

    Dani is fucking backwards. But as long as she runs, and my mechanics clear her, I am 100% okay with her quirks.

    I don't understand why I get so much shit from people for these philosophies: I am proud of her repairs. Those are proof of my knowledge and how much time and money I have put into her. Proof of my love.

    I am proud of my dirty hands from inspecting her. She is my baby and cost a lot, and I want to make sure she runs as perfectly as possible.

    I have quirks. I'm sure they're annoying to people, and annoying to Dani. It can't be fun having someone scream and cry and then laugh hysterically and then start slamming a steering wheel all in ten minutes, but I feel like she loves me anyway. She runs quietly enough that I can work through my thoughts, but loud enough that I know she's there. She just runs a little backwards sometimes. She needs a little more TLC than a dealership car.

    Who doesn't?

    I accept her, quirks and flaws and all, and I feel like she accepts mine too. I feel like that makes me a lot closer to accepting my own.