Check Engine Lights and Churning Stomachs

I forget what movie we saw. I suspect something silly like Spies Like Us with Chevy Chase and Dan Ackroyd or an over-the-top 80s tough guy movie like Commando with Arnold Schwarzenegger. I can’t even tell you much about the rest of the night. But I clearly remember the metallic bile in the back of my throat the moment I realized that we weren’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

My friend and I got into my car — or rather, my mom’s AMC Concord. I turned the ignition and nothing happened. The engine wouldn’t turn over. I tried again. Nothing. Click, click, click, nothing.

My heart sank.

I was in high school, and my mom had grudgingly given me the keys to the family car. My parents weren’t too happy about letting me go out in the first place. It was the dead of winter, cold as they come, and they didn’t see a good reason for me to be out “gallivanting” carefree when I should be home where it was warm. And now, they had to get out of bed, drive half an hour, and try to jump-start the car. When that didn’t work, I thought for sure my dad was going to flip his lid.

My mom had the heater in my dad’s truck cranked up to the warmest setting, but the temperature — after we dropped off my friend — felt colder than the East Antarctic Plateau. I’m talking absolute zero and then some.

Different night, same feeling!

Another time, I drove a good friend, a girl from my high school, over the mountain to the nearby college town. It was supposed to be a great night out. We hit downtown and had barely driven through town when the Check Engine light flashed on. I cursed my luck. And yes, I felt that exact same bile.

My heart sank again. It seemed even worse for it to happen with a girl in the car. We were just friends, but I felt so entirely useless.

Memories are a funny thing. I have plenty of fuzzy moments from over the years, but I can tell you with vivid detail the times when my car broke down or left me stranded along the side of a road. You go from enjoying a carefree moment to being suddenly jolted into reality, desperately trying to figure out what comes next.

It’s never a good feeling. Here are a few more from my hall of fame:

—It’s All Uphill From Here: A month after I had gotten my driver’s license, I was driving through my small town when the engine started knocking and steam began billowing out from under the hood. I barely managed to coast into a small store near my house. It was called, appropriately enough, The Hill Store, because it sat right at the top of a massive hill. And that is exactly where the car died.

—Catching some Zzzs: American Motors Corporation produced a subcompact hatchback called the Renault Encore from 1984 to 1986 — the North American version of the European Renault 11. My brother had given me the car when his commission sent him off to Hawaii. I was fresh out of college and working at my first newspaper. The car introduced me to French ingenuity, but unfortunately, it also introduced me to the French idiom grasse matinée — which translates to “sleeping in” or “having a lie-in.” I drove the Encore to work one day and it decided it never wanted to wake up from its slumber again. Good luck getting home, American Yankee!

—Faster Than A Speeding Turtle. Finally, there was the time my mom’s car went from vroom, vroom to put-put, barely able to hit the 35 mph mark. My mom was actually in the passenger seat with me this time, but I still felt a wave of guilt because we had spent the afternoon shopping for my new school clothes.

A Recurring Nightmare!

Decades later, I thought of all those experiences last week when the Engine Coolant light popped up on my SUV. On pure reflex, I wanted to retch. I instantly felt like a kid again. At 17, a breakdown meant facing disappointed parents and ruining their day, a damaged sense of independence, and a total lack of control.

But then I reminded myself: a lifetime has changed. At 50+, a dashboard light just means an annoying scheduling hitch and a call to the mechanic. Car breakdowns are a natural part of life. They don’t make me happy, but it’s no longer the end of the world. I’m an adult. I can handle this.

Fortunately, I was able to safely make it to my mechanic. He diagnosed it quickly — a hose was going bad. Unfortunately, it’s going to cost a penny or two to fix. I could have done without the expense, but in the grand scheme of things, I really can’t complain. My car has been good to me, even if the sudden shock of things going wrong never truly goes away.

How do you deal with the shock of unexpected car problems? Do they trigger old memories for you, too?