Monday Cam Sensor Blogging

My never-fail 13-year-old Volvo failed me today. It was out in front of a Borders’ and I wasn’t on a tight schedule so there’s a blessing. I even found my triple-A card—have I really been a member for 36 years? I don’t want to compute how much each of my lifetime service calls cost me. The tow truck showed up quickly only it wasn’t a tow truck—just a yellow truck with a light on top. A lady popped out, carrying jumper cables.

--‘I don’t think it’s the battery,' I said. 'I get juice, I don’t seem to get gas.’

--‘I like Volvos,’ she said, ‘I’ve had two of them. Do you like Borders? My daughter and I love to read. We read and read and read.’

She hooked up the jumper cables.

--‘Okay, give it a start.’

The engine turned over but it didn’t connect.

--‘I don’t think it’s the battery,’ she said. ‘You’ll need a tow truck.’

--‘Yeah, that’s why I called.’

A tow truck showed up in time, driven by Scott. No, piloted by Scott; it was the size of the Titanic. Scott is a big, beefy guy with tattoos and a shaved head, but he was quick and cheerful and courteous. He even tried to make my life easier: he checked a couple of fuses and twiddled something.

--‘No, I guess it’s not going to be easy, I’ll have to take it in. Climb in the truck, it’s cooler.’

I took two steps up into the cab of the truck. It was indeed cooler, with room enough for indoor soccer.

--‘What kind of music you like?’

--‘I don’t care.’

--‘Got any kind, what do you like?’

I said ‘I don’t care’ again, but in fact I could see Bill Monroe on the I-pod screen, so I knew I was in safe hands.

Scott seemed to have a difficult time getting hooked up. ‘Front wheel drive,’ he said. ‘Not many Volvos.’

On the five-mile run back to the shop Scott fielded I think three phone calls, trying to line up a part for a welder, or a part that someone could weld. In between, I remarked that he had five little computer screens on his dash. Scott nodded assent. ‘Two GPS systems,’ he said. I asked which one he preferred. ‘They each have their advantages. This one leaves a trail of breadcrumbs behind. This one is better on streets and corners. This one’—he pointed at breadcrumbs—‘goes back to 1998.’ We agreed that this was pretty much ancient history. Then he told me how triple A had a rule prohibiting from driving over 70, and if the speedometer hit 69, they sent him a warning email.

‘You can never get away from the boss,’ I said.

No, Scott agreed, that’s for sure. He dropped me off at outside the repair shop. Three hours later I was on my way, lighter by $400 (including AAA discount), but heavier by a new cam sensor. I have no idea whether the price was high, or low, or just right, and indeed I have not the foggiest idea what a cam sensor does, or why.