My car has to be the most evil thing on this planet. Well, maybe one of the top evil things.

I don't know why it doesn't like me.

I buy the medium level octane gas.

I get the oil changed.

I never really did anything to make it mad, but for some reason it decided to take its pent up aggression out on me.

It all started when that little red light started blinking.

I'm sure you all know the one I speak of, the dreaded "SERVICE ENGINE SOON."

I think that light should read "HAHAHAH! YOU'RE IN TROUBLE!" So me, being the logically minded individual that I am, took my car to the nearest service station.

I had also purchased an extended service warranty, because my luck with cars has often been less than sub-par.

Well, after I took my car to the station I was told I was at the wrong station.

I have to take it to a station that deals specifically with my car.

"Oh," I said. As the service man looked at me like I didn't know what the difference between right and left were. Who knew there were car-specific stations?

So I went down the road to the next service station.

"Aha! This station will fix my car!" I thought smugly to myself.

Yes, they could fix it, (or so they professed), but they couldn't look at my car for another eight days. Eight days! What if I, you know, actually needed my car?

I was stuck, as many of us are when it comes to fields completely out of our leagues.

I had nothing to do but comply.

So, my car sat at the garage for the next eight days, only to be diagnosed with a gearshift problem.

The car was "fixed," and was almost returned to me, when the garage then said they found additional problems.

I wonder why they didn't find these the first time they were checking for problems? And to make things better, the repairs couldn't be completed at this garage either. So my car has now been to three garages.

The downward spiral continued, my car sat at the third garage for two weeks while a new diagnostic was waiting to be done.

Only later was it to be determined that I needed a new transmission. (Luckily that was covered by the warranty).

How do highly skilled people miss these things?

If a major portion of the car isn't working, you think a trained technician would be able to find this.

But the best thing, and by best I mean worst, to happen this week, was the call I received from my warranty company. They said that they would cover the repairs to my car, but first needed to see the car. Well that makes logical sense. When I asked why they needed to see the car, I was given this response:

"We need to make sure you aren't using your car for drag-racing purposes or for heavy freight carrying purposes."

I drive a 1998 Nissan Sentra. It has four doors. Do you honestly think I would be drag-racing that across Centre County, Pa.?

Sigh.

Unfortunately, Americans have become so obsessed with individuality--including the ability to have your own, individual mode of transportation--we've gotten ahead of ourselves. How did we get to the point where a simple mechanical problem can ruin our lives for weeks on end?

Why do these garages have so much power to charge me so much and do so little? And what, you ask, has this whole experience taught me?

The joys of public transportation. Sadly, we often shrug our heads at taking the bus or a train. Europe and Japan, which depend heavily on public transportation, are years ahead of us. The amount of gridlock traffic is smaller, more people travel using fewer resources The Earth smiles, a smart idea. Every wins.

Again, I say--still without my automobile--sigh.

All I know at this point is, "Thank God for CATA."