Every minute I'm driving my parents' minivan I'm looking at the temp gauge, in case it goes above its normal level, which is just below half. Don't want it to overheat after the times I saw it go up nearly all the way on my old car early May. It's a bad way to drive, getting all panicky like that every single minute. If I think it's going to overheat, how will I ever drive calmly, as if I can believe that the car will drive normally?
While driving down to the Megamall, I suddenly realized, or panicked, that I should check the coolant overflow tank. If I'm always looking at the temp gauge, maybe looking at the tank and seeing it's filled all the way will assuage my feelings. And if it is low, then I can fill it up. Of course, I had antifreeze at home but didn't bring it with me.
So I went to Hooters (where I was not served by the waitress who was flirting with me Christmas Eve) and after that I went to check out my car, which was idled for about 4 1/2 hours. And I kind of lost my shit; the tank was just about empty, like, completely empty.
I was praying to God and Buddha that the minivan wouldn't overheat on my way to what I thought would be the closest gas station to MOA. It's times like this, times of sheer panic, where everything you notice comes into sharp focus. For example, I swear that the needle on the gauge rose faster than it usually does, which is a sign that the engine is starving for coolant. Fuck me. I also could hear "better" the grunting of the engine, for lack of a better term. I was making it sweat without giving it the proper cooling system, and I was killing him.
Then again, maybe it was the alcohol talking. Anyway. ...
I managed to reach the gas station, and the gauge didn't spike into the red or anything. Had to pay ten bucks for antifreeze which may or may not be good for my parents' foreign. But after I checked after pouring in a little, I made the stupid mistake of holding the antifreeze jug with both hands while allowing the paper funnel you get at the gas station to just sit on the mouth of the coolant tank. The antifreeze hit the funnel with such force, and at such an angle, where it knocked it on its side, so all the coolant I was pouring was bouncing off the side of the funnel and all over the compartment. God fucking damn!!! Somebody fucked this up. Those funnels never fit those tank mouths. Either make narrower funnels or wider mouths, or both. I don't know who to fucking blame, so I'm blaming everybody.
That meant I had to take an extra ten goddamn minutes to try and clean up all the green spillage under the hood. There are so many nooks and crannies in there I know I didn't get it all. So I expect to turn on the engine one morning and see the coolant burning into a vapor that'll seep through the hood, making me think there's a huge leak and freaking me out. Shit, having all that coolant just lying there may be a big problem, who the hell knows?
And the upshot to all this? Well, there are two. First, when I parked at the gas station, I looked at the overflow tank again. While it wasn't by any measure full, there was more in there, enough to move it above the "Low" line. I would have added more coolant anyway, but that tells me I would have been OK for the drive home. Too late though; I had already fucked myself by paying ten bucks for gas station antifreeze. And second, the needle on the temperature gauge was at the same level from the gas station all the way home as it was from the Mall of America to the gas station ... and, really, as it has been ever since I started using the minivan on a full-time basis in the fall. Maybe I had nothing to worry about after all, and maybe I didn't have to lose my shit and cause this huge fucking antifreeze shit mess underneath my parents' van's hood. Once again, fuck me.
No comments:
Post a Comment