The dealer has diagnosed my car: it's some kind of busted sensor. They've ordered the part for me; it'll probably come in in a week or so. They assure me that the car is safe to drive in the meantime.

They've also managed to turn the darn Check Engine light off, which is a vast relief. Having that thing glowing away in my peripheral vision all the time was distracting, especially when I was driving at night.

Warranty coverage is cool. This is the first time I've ever taken a car in for repairs and gotten a big long invoice with "Please pay this amount: 0.00" down at the bottom.

I think my mechanic may have been grooving to my new driving mix CD that I burned a couple of days ago. When I dropped the car off, it was on Track 14; when I picked it up it was on Track 9. Hope he enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, they didn't call to tell me that my car was ready for pick-up until 4:30, and the service department closes at 5:30. So, Daniel fought his way through yucky Friday afternoon South Bay traffic to pick me up at work, and then we fought our way through more yucky traffic to the dealership, and made it with something like 10 minutes to spare. And then I fought my way through yucky South Bay traffic to get back home. Where I am now.

Supposedly our landlord is dropping by in a little while. Then we'll have dinner, and then I've promised Daniel ice cream for fighting his way through yucky traffic to go get me my car.

On my way home, I passed a tow truck pulled over by the side of the road, and I just wondered...hence the title of today's entry.