Posted on: Tuesday, June 28, 2005

ABOUT WOMEN
Time to learn about my wheels

By Lynda Arakawa
Advertiser Staff Writer

I've always made fun of that infinite series of educational "For Dummies" books.

But I think I may have to break down soon and pick up a copy of "Auto Repair for Dummies."

My beloved car, which has been typically low-maintenance, is starting to demand a little more attention these days. She still runs and gets me to where I want to go, but she hasn't really been herself lately.

For starters, the speedometer is broken. According to the little needle, I can apparently keep up with traffic on the freeway while going 0 mph. (How's that for an excuse to get out of a speeding ticket?)

The car is making noises so funky that passengers ask, "What's that?"

And more importantly, my air conditioner conked out. Ah, just in time for summer.

I'm now stuck at a crossroads. I already shelled out a good chunk of cash for a new transmission and timing belt earlier this year after my car broke down on the H-1.

Do I dish out more dough on an eight-year-old car with scratches and dents or walk away from the money I invested in it and just get a new ride?

It's a tough call. When I bought my car, I vowed to keep her until she had nothing at all left to give. But it's so irritating to see more things breaking on her — things that no amount of coaxing will fix.

What makes this whole dilemma worse is that I know absolutely nothing about cars. Nada. Diddly. Zip.

The most I can do is check my car's oil, but I can't tell you for sure where to refill it if it's low.

Let me point out that I consider myself to be a resourceful, independent adult who takes care of things herself. When it comes to what's under the hood of a car, however, I'm pretty much ... well, a dummy.

Sadly, I've come to depend on the men in my life to handle my car woes. Before it was my dad, a now-retired airline mechanic who knows his way around NAPA Auto Parts.

Now my poor boyfriend is my designated automotive agent. I have to say it's pretty comforting and convenient to have someone to deal with all of that for me. But not fully understanding what's going on is kind of spooky.

I don't need to know every intimate detail about automobiles. I understand my skill limits enough to know I will never become that cool, grease-under-the-fingernails kind of girl who fixes cars.

I just want to be able to confidently discuss my car issues with a professional without worrying about being tricked into paying for unnecessary stuff.

As much as the old damsel-in-distress act is easy, it's probably time for me to step out of my comfort zone and take more control over and responsibility for my vehicle. Being the chick who's clueless about cars is so last-century, right?

I sure hope Borders has a "How Not to Get Ripped Off for Dummies."

Reach Lynda Arakawa at larakawa@honoluluadvertiser.com or at 535-2470.