My beautiful used car had run seven months without losing or gaining, and without breaking any part of its machinery or stopping. I had come to believe it dependable and to consider its structure and its framework indestructible. However, one night, I let it breakdown. I grieved about it as if it were a family member as my car stalled and inoperable in a turn lane. It seems as if that was the hottest day of the year and I even had on shorts. .
Eventually I cheered up, called a tow truck and had the car towed to the car dealership. Next day I stepped onto the car lot with an attitude trying to find out what happened to the vehicle that made it breakdown. The dealer said, "the alternator wasn't charging." I tried to make him understand that it had to be another problem because it was running just perfect. But no; all this human cabbage could see was that the car wasn't working, and the dash lights wouldn't come on; and so, while I danced around him in anguish, and implored him to let the car alone, he calmly and cruelly did the shameful deed. I sat behind the steering wheel of the gray car and suddenly the engine turnover with a couple of tries. .
Once the automobile started I let it run and told the dealer what he could do and I left the car lot. Within two months the sickening process started all over again. This time I took it to a person that I worked with (Bill) who was referred to as the local "shade tree", the mechanic to be admired. Bill asked me if I had ever had it repaired. Although I had taken it to the car dealership I didn't actually get it repaired so I said no, it had never needed any repairing. .
He looked a look of vicious happiness and eagerly pried the hood open, and then put a small portable toolbox onto this now undependable piece of machinery. Bill said the starter needed to be replaced, but if I could hold out and come back in a week he could get me a good deal.