Stella’s been acting out.
I know this because strange things are happening in our vehicular vicinity.
The Suburban, an entity of immense proportions and mucho mileage, has started to act with a mind of her own.
Maybe she’s mad that at least three times a week I violate her with the key of our Chevy truck – mistaken identity is most always an insult to a woman.
I’m not gentle when trying to turn the engine with the Silverado key, either. I’m emphatic with my belief that I’ve got the right key in my hand and it needs to Turn. Over. Now.
Then I discover it’s the wrong key, meekly apologize while patting the steering wheel, and switch the ignition keys, then she happily roars to life.
Well, that’s not entirely true. She roars to life like a growly mountaineer named Stella who wears plaid flannel shirts and splits firewood in her free time.
(Hence her name, Stella. It just fits her. Stella the Suburban.)
When Stella hugs you with her heated seats, you melt in happiness…
But she’s not happy now.
Maybe she’s tired of the layer of trash constantly decorating her floorboards.
I thought she would understand her length and girth make it impossible to hand the colorfully decorated fast food pouches directly to the ruffians in the rumble seat. Instead I must catapult the food from the front seat to the back, hoping and praying it arrives where I aim.
Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. That’s a risk you take when you drive a vehicle the same size as a 15-passenger van. Stella should understand.
Maybe Stella feels slighted she’s 6,000 miles overdue for an oil change. I corrected that problem today with a little loving from the folks at the dealership. She may be holding a grudge, though.
It’s hard to guess why Stella is possessed, but I know she is.
Here’s my proof:
- Two days ago the sub-woofer on the stereo turned on – for the first time since we’ve owned it.
- Yesterday Stella accelerated on her own as I drove to the college – her engine kept revving even as I hit the brakes for a stop sign.
- She refused to start after I turned the key in the ignition – but after I removed the key, Stella started gurgling, trying to turn the engine over on her own.
- Every time I start her going the Tow/Haul light is magically on. No help from me.
Now, I don’t want to get too concerned, but I’m ready to stage an intervention with Stella to find out exactly what’s going on.
Is is menopause? She’s not a spring chicken with 130k+ miles under her belt, but I believe she’s got a lot more to give.
I believe in her!
Maybe it’s just a bad day. Or week.
I just hope she doesn’t have a psychotic break and kill us all.
What do you think? Any referrals for a therapeutic vehicular counselor?