The Check Engine Light

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m trying to get some errands done.  I have to go to Crossgates Mall and print out a photograph for an upcoming art show, then I have to go to Jo-Ann Fabrics and purchase an appropriate frame for same.

Let’s Go, Cardachrome – Next stop, Crossgates Mall.

Everything’s fine, my Saturn Ion “Cardachrome” is purring like a kitten as we reach the Crossgates parking lot.  I had the photograph printed, talked with Craig and Patty (the staff at Ritz) about upcoming camera equipment and sales – Craig keeps trying to get me to invest in Canon equipment, but that’s just not happening to this happy Nikon user.  I paid for the print, and back to the parking lot I go.

Let’s Go, Cardachrome – next stop, Jo-Ann Fabrics in Northway Mall.

I start the car.  All the dashboard lights go on for a second, then most of them go off.  This is normal when one starts a a car.

Except that an amber light on the dashboard – the one representing the pictogram of an engine – stayed on.

Oh no.  That’s the check engine light.

That can never be a good thing.

I drove the car from  Crossgates to Jo-Ann Fabrics.  It seemed to drive normally.  I turned off the car and purchased the frame at Jo-Ann.  I got back in the car.  I turned on the key.

All the dashboard lights went on – then they went off.

Except for the dreaded check engine light.  It stayed on.

I know what this means.  $omething in the engine is about to collap$e.  $omething is going to $eparate.  I’m looking at thou$and$ of dollar$ in repair$.  My dependable Saturn Ion is about ready to border into “hold on for another month” territory.  Please, no.  I can’t go through this again.

I had one thought left.  It’s Sunday.  Maybe, just maybe, if I get my fluids checked at Valvoline, everything will be fine.  That’s probably it – I’m probably low on radiator fluid or oil or that blue formula that washes my windshield.

Let’s Go, Cardachrome – Next stop, Valvoline at the corner of Colvin and Central.

Valvoline’s open, and there’s only a couple of cars in the bays.  I pull up to an empty bay.

One of the attendants – his name was Don – came out to see what type of service I needed.

“I may need my fluids checked, Don – my check engine light is on.”

“It is?  Wait here,” Don said reassuringly.

He went into the garage, and came out with what looked like a handheld computer.  He connected a wire from the handheld into a Molex port under my car’s dashboard.

Within a minute, he gave me the diagnosis.

I braced myself.

“Go tighten your gas cap.”

Huh?

I walked around to the right rear side of the Ion, where my gas cap is located.

I took the gas cap off, reapplied it and twisted it two or three click-clack revolutions – which is what you’re supposed to do.

Don sent a signal to the car’s electronic module.  The check engine light went out.

“If this goes back on,” Don said with a smile, “just go to Pep Boys or AutoZone and get a new gas cap.  That’s all you need.”

After thanking Don a few times and wishing him a happy holiday, I got back into the Ion and breathed a major sigh of relief.  I could still do the Equinox Thanksgiving Dinner road trip, without having to worry about my car breaking down on Thanksgiving Day.

Because hearing the words “gas cap” are a lot less stress-inducing than hearing the words “oil leak” or “cracked cylinder.”  And that’s the truth.