March 17, 2014, Slightly later that same day.

I left the Public Library (shamelessly using them for the Internet…again) and headed to Highway 90-94 and that real US Cellular location, a 30 to 40 minute drive.  I had traveled just a few miles, when I decided to set the cruise control. It’s an easier drive, especially with big rubbery snow boots! As my 4-Runner started accelerating, I heard this unbelievable loud, growling motor. I looked around to find the source, expecting to see the meanest, baddest, biggest pack of Hell's Angels on Harleys descending upon me from behind. But there was no one. No one. Anywhere. 

It didn’t take me long to realize, that it was me! Well…it was my 4-Runner.  My incredibly reliable, quiet running 16-year old 4-Runner.  (I have been known to try to restart the already running engine, because it’s so quiet.)

It is NOT quiet now.

I started to pray, “Please Dear Lord, don’t let it be anything major. We really can’t afford to pay for anything like that and I certainly can’t afford a new car or truck or anything. Please get me to the only mechanic and garage that I know here and get me there safely. And please, oh please, oh please, let it be minor.”

I had to drive 8 to 10 miles before there was a turn around that would send me back in the direction of that one mechanic and that one garage. And I kept repeating my prayer. “Please, please Lord, nothing major with the 4-Runner. Get me there safely. Nothing major.”

Obviously that kind of crazy loud sound has to do with the muffler, right?  I imagined what it might look like under the chassis after one winter trapped in the polar vortex in Wisconsin. The salt and sand used to combat the snow and ice having eaten away the raw metal, causing corrosion and rot on my already years-warn undercarriage.

Sigh.

I did make it safely back to town and to the mechanic and the garage. I parked and went inside and there he was…my mechanic, covered from head to toe in grease and oil. He’s checked my levels (again…the 4-Runner’s, not mine), and changed my oil once, but I feel an affinity toward him. He’s a nice, small town, seems-to-be-honest, mechanic.

I explained what had happened. He told me that he was really pretty booked up until midweek.  I asked him if he might “squeeze me in” (the 4-Runner, not me) easier, if I left it there? He agreed that it would be a possibility, so I set about making that happen. 

A quick call to Mom and we had a plan.  I would walk back to the Public Library (a cold day for a walk with the wind chill hovering around 18 degrees), we would wait until her office partner returned from her lunch so that she could leave, she would drive to town (her office is just outside town), pick me up at the library, we would stop back at the truck to get the car seat for Harry, drive back to her office, drop her off, then I could go get Harry after school and take him home, and both of us drive back to pick her up from work when the day was over. Whew!

When I walked back toward the 4-Runner after leaving my keys with the mechanic. I saw something hanging from under the truck…and it wasn’t a huge metal piece like the muffler or pipes or whatever.  It was a simple thick wire-like thing with something attached.  I walked back to add the information to my case. The mechanic stuck his head out the door to take a look.  “I have no idea what that is,” I said.  “I do,” he answered with certainty. “It looks like the oxygen sensor. And if that’s what it is, this is even simpler.” 

Hooray!

We will have to wait for the official diagnosis (as Harry says after he’s examined a patient while playing Doctor) but it seems that it might be a simple repair. And then it’s back on the road to drop that device, tomorrow.

Oh, and “Thank You, Lord.”

“Thank you.”

The back window of our 4-Runner.
Lovingly adorned with representations of Harry and me.