alternator...OUT!

Tar Heel hater.

 

I'm tellin ya ... James Taylor acoustic. Only way to go here. Unless we turn it over to William Joel. He can do whatever he wants with it.

Oh, and according to rhymer.com ... not much to work with:

One and two syllable Double Rhymes of alternator:

maitre, prater, traitor

(EDIT: Though Xan has come through much better than I or the Net could this morning ... started way too early today, I'm afraid.)

 

Jail baiter
Blue-state hater ...

 

I'm at some local place. apparently no one has a part so they have to get it brought in from the next town over...hence the wait. that's also why, I'm assuming the part is new.

 

Billy Joel knows a lot about wrecked cars.

 

Tracy Chapman knows about fast cars.

Gary Numan knows about being in a car.

 

There ya go. Lyrics and piano, Billy Joel. Vocals, James. Backup singer, clearly, Amy Winehouse.

 

Speaking of dealers, I took my 15-year-old Achieva w/203,000 miles on it into one the other day only because a friend runs the service department and it is right next to the Y where I work out. A pin in the steerling column was busted, causing the steering wheel to flop up and down. You know how you can adjust it to a certain height? Where, there was no height. It was up and down, up and down. No side to side, and no danger of falling off, but still not how I wanted to drive my car.

Well, they wanted $89 for a diagnostic. For some reason I paid it. Then, after screwing around for three hours, the mechanic said it needed a new steering column. Cost = $599.

Ummmmmmmmmm, no.

My dad, who owns his own car-repair shop (but is 2½ hours away), fixed it for nothing. It did not involve replacing the entire steering column.

Stupid dealers. I knew it was a mistake to go in there from the beginning.

 

Three bad experiences with alternators (different cars).
One foiled a pleasant day trip to New Hampshire (started cutting out turning off 93 into Lincoln). Luckily found a place in Lincoln that was fair to us - wasn't cheap, and ruined a nice afternoon on the Kacamangus, but it could've been worse.
Another happened driving home from work one night while still on crutches with a blown ACL. It stopped right at an intersection, and I spent about two of the wee small hours sitting on a traffic island waiting for the tow.
Then last year, it crapped out on a Friday afternoon leaving work (about 40 miles from my usual mechanic). Had to rent for the weekend, and when I got the car back, they didn't bolt the alternator in right, and my guy had to fix it again.

 

So NOBODY'S going to go the obvious route that ends in -bator? Or -culator? This turn into a fucking nunnery overnight?

 

Masturbator in the incubator.

 

Things like this are why I am glad my dad works for the dealership where I bought my Cobalt. I know I won't get ripped off and I get everything at employee pricing.