Afraid Of My Car Again

So I brought the busted power window to the mechanic around the corner from me -- he's a great guy, but I told him that I'm seeing way too much of him -- in the hopes that they'll give me a quick diagnosis, get in the door panel, lift up the window pane, keep it up there, put it all back, and let me think about what to do next, all within 90 minutes.

It doesn't work that way.  Guess none of it works that way.  They didn't have time to open it up, but they could tape it up.  I didn't want that because then my parents would see tape all over my car, and they'd renew their calls for me to junk my car.  Moreover, he insisted that even if he had the time, he could save me money just by opening the door panel once and fixing it instead of opening it twice, to diagnose now and to fix later.  I wanted to let him know that was OK, but again he was short on time, and if I said I was willing to do it, I was afraid I would come off sounding stupid.  So I shut my mouth and asked him to tape it up.  I'll get it fixed ... oh, some time later.

It was a beautiful tape job, if that makes any sense.  Unfortunately it was blue tape.  I didn't want to fuck with this beautiful craftwork, but it looked too conspicuous.  I just felt that if I left it out in the open one night, some punk would look at the blue tape and decide he was going to undo the tape to see what he could do.  Not to say that clear tape, which I replaced it with last night, would look entirely invisible.  But if some guy looked at my car in passing and didn't notice that there were these weird creases around the window, that might be the time I averted coming back to a broken window, or even a stolen car.

I'm now afraid of it, again, by the way.  I'm afraid of it getting broken into, or breaking down in the highway in the middle of the upcoming winter, like Mother fears.  But you know, I have no logic or evidence to feel that way.  The slight oil drip I see at the bottom of the car?  Gone.  Probably it's because it's less than full.  But they said they were going to seal up the major leaks, and they have.  And even though the transmission works funny from time to time, I keep checking it and it says it's full.  What can I do?  It gets me around, and it gets me around without incident.

It's like someone whose family has a history with cancer being worried about cancer.  If you're afraid of cancer, as if you already have cancer, guess what?  You have cancer.  A phantom diagnosis might as well be the real thing if you're scared of it.  And I'm scared of my car, despite topping the transmission and power steering with fluid, like I did about an hour ago.

I'm going to the U. women's hockey game as they raise their championship banner.  I made a point to park so my bad window is on the street side.  If someone wants to fuck with my car through that window, they might think twice if zooming cars can see it.  Or maybe they won't care.