Honda proved to me this weekend that there really can be too much of a good thing. I never really thought that was possible, though I am aware grain silo-sized vats of scientific evidence could prove me wrong. Yes, too much sugar causes cavities but let’s face it—it also gives immense amounts of pleasure to your tastebuds. Too much work can make your self-definition end in “aholic” but hey, you can accomplish A LOT and that has never been a bad thing in my book. Too much coffee can make your heart race, your eyes dilate, your body start to sweat and your mind to spasm---but, (this is important), it’s legal.
But, apparently, though oil is quite helpful to your car, it can actually get too much of it.
I’d been driving for weeks without changing or adding to my oil levels, and in the past when I’d added a bit of oil to the engine it performed much, much better. So before heading to Bakersfield for a quick trip on Saturday I decided to improve Honda’s performance.
This included two quarts of oil and absolutely zero checks of the dipstick.
As I pulled out of our driveway I had a brief premonition that something wasn’t going to go right but I often have that feeling when I turn on my car. I think it just comes with the vibrations, noises and strange smells. Several minutes on to the freeway, however, I began to smell something burning. Then, in my rear-view mirror a huge white cloud burst out of nowhere and didn’t go away.
Please tell me that’s just smog. I thought for about two seconds until I realized I might actually blow up.
The free California tow-truck guy (our tax dollars at work) showed up on the side of the road where I sat asking my sisters for advice and asked if he could tow my car away.
No I'm not donating its body to science yet, thankyouverymuch.
He also informed me that yes, too much oil in the engine could cause the smoke unless I’d blown a head gasket. Please let it be the oil, I hoped since a blown head gasket means a blown vehicle. Since I still had acceleration power I drove off of the freeway and decided to cruise around the hills of La Canada to burn off the oil.
I managed to single-handedly burn another hole in the ozone layer, fill up a neighborhood with enough smoke I’m certain fire alarms were blaring off their mounts, convince cars to pull over to get out of my smoke’s fumes, and encouraged considerate people to honk and wave madly to keep me from blowing myself clean off of the map. The oil was NOT burning off. It seemed to be having babies and those too were being burned out of my tail pipe. Now smoke filled up the inside of my car so that I was choking and waving a t-shirt in front of my face to get the air to clear. This was not good.
A dear friend on the phone mentioned, (when I explained that I had turned into a biological weapon), that I should perhaps get my oil changed right away.
So I did.
Nearby there was a Test-Only Smog center located on a corner where five old men sat around smoking stumped cigars and playing some sort of card game. I needed to get smogged to get my tags, so I lumbered little Honda into the driveway where the men peered at the machine with almost pitying curiosity.
“You don’t have a gas cap,” the head man said when they’d hooked up Honda to the testing machine.
“Oh yes, I know that. My sister lost it when she borrowed my car,” I said, as if that somehow made up for the fact that I didn’t have a gas cap, or a side bar, and as if it explained why the vehicle is mashed in on each and every side. The man shook his head and with expressionless eyes and said:
“Well it won’t pass without a gas cap.”
I didn’t think it would pass anyway. I thought as I told him I was sorry about that.
“Let me see if I have one..” he said. He did have one which he gave me. Another one of the men brought me a plastic chair to sit on beside a huge pile of tires while I waited with bated breath to see if my car would pass.
Honda passed.
The next morning as I let my car warm up before heading back to L.A. to teach Sunday School (I mean, rein in the two-year-olds) I noticed that exhaust was coming out of more than just the exhaust pipe.
It was coming out of the muffler as well.
Apparently I blew a hole in my muffler.
And apparently, that might be why the thing passed.
So although I may have had the inconvenience of causing an ecological disaster, and though I may have had to run a few extra errands, in the end, the bad thing turned into something good.
Though there may be such a thing as too much of a good thing, I think that even too much of a bad thing can result in something good. If I reflect on my life, seriously even, I notice that even some of the worst events have resulted in some of the best events. Some of the greatest uglies in our lives can be used to get us to the point where we’re finally ready to listen, to learn, to change.
I once read of a man who said that he couldn’t distinguish between the “bad” and the “good” at the end of his life. He said there was no such thing when you see events as fluid. And that morphing—of something bad into something good or vice versa, is really what we, as humans despise. We’re uncomfortable with the journey.
We don’t like waiting on the side of the road until the smoke clears. It’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, confusing. It’s time-consuming. It’s seems meaningless. But is it?
The muffler makes me think….maybe not.
But, apparently, though oil is quite helpful to your car, it can actually get too much of it.
I’d been driving for weeks without changing or adding to my oil levels, and in the past when I’d added a bit of oil to the engine it performed much, much better. So before heading to Bakersfield for a quick trip on Saturday I decided to improve Honda’s performance.
This included two quarts of oil and absolutely zero checks of the dipstick.
As I pulled out of our driveway I had a brief premonition that something wasn’t going to go right but I often have that feeling when I turn on my car. I think it just comes with the vibrations, noises and strange smells. Several minutes on to the freeway, however, I began to smell something burning. Then, in my rear-view mirror a huge white cloud burst out of nowhere and didn’t go away.
Please tell me that’s just smog. I thought for about two seconds until I realized I might actually blow up.
The free California tow-truck guy (our tax dollars at work) showed up on the side of the road where I sat asking my sisters for advice and asked if he could tow my car away.
No I'm not donating its body to science yet, thankyouverymuch.
He also informed me that yes, too much oil in the engine could cause the smoke unless I’d blown a head gasket. Please let it be the oil, I hoped since a blown head gasket means a blown vehicle. Since I still had acceleration power I drove off of the freeway and decided to cruise around the hills of La Canada to burn off the oil.
I managed to single-handedly burn another hole in the ozone layer, fill up a neighborhood with enough smoke I’m certain fire alarms were blaring off their mounts, convince cars to pull over to get out of my smoke’s fumes, and encouraged considerate people to honk and wave madly to keep me from blowing myself clean off of the map. The oil was NOT burning off. It seemed to be having babies and those too were being burned out of my tail pipe. Now smoke filled up the inside of my car so that I was choking and waving a t-shirt in front of my face to get the air to clear. This was not good.
A dear friend on the phone mentioned, (when I explained that I had turned into a biological weapon), that I should perhaps get my oil changed right away.
So I did.
Nearby there was a Test-Only Smog center located on a corner where five old men sat around smoking stumped cigars and playing some sort of card game. I needed to get smogged to get my tags, so I lumbered little Honda into the driveway where the men peered at the machine with almost pitying curiosity.
“You don’t have a gas cap,” the head man said when they’d hooked up Honda to the testing machine.
“Oh yes, I know that. My sister lost it when she borrowed my car,” I said, as if that somehow made up for the fact that I didn’t have a gas cap, or a side bar, and as if it explained why the vehicle is mashed in on each and every side. The man shook his head and with expressionless eyes and said:
“Well it won’t pass without a gas cap.”
I didn’t think it would pass anyway. I thought as I told him I was sorry about that.
“Let me see if I have one..” he said. He did have one which he gave me. Another one of the men brought me a plastic chair to sit on beside a huge pile of tires while I waited with bated breath to see if my car would pass.
Honda passed.
The next morning as I let my car warm up before heading back to L.A. to teach Sunday School (I mean, rein in the two-year-olds) I noticed that exhaust was coming out of more than just the exhaust pipe.
It was coming out of the muffler as well.
Apparently I blew a hole in my muffler.
And apparently, that might be why the thing passed.
So although I may have had the inconvenience of causing an ecological disaster, and though I may have had to run a few extra errands, in the end, the bad thing turned into something good.
Though there may be such a thing as too much of a good thing, I think that even too much of a bad thing can result in something good. If I reflect on my life, seriously even, I notice that even some of the worst events have resulted in some of the best events. Some of the greatest uglies in our lives can be used to get us to the point where we’re finally ready to listen, to learn, to change.
I once read of a man who said that he couldn’t distinguish between the “bad” and the “good” at the end of his life. He said there was no such thing when you see events as fluid. And that morphing—of something bad into something good or vice versa, is really what we, as humans despise. We’re uncomfortable with the journey.
We don’t like waiting on the side of the road until the smoke clears. It’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, confusing. It’s time-consuming. It’s seems meaningless. But is it?
The muffler makes me think….maybe not.
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