That�s what I was thinking as I drove up the 101 this morning, deodorant failing, the amber �check engine� light intermittently flashing at me, the back seat full of bags destined for the Goodwill.

Car trouble makes me panicky, sets off a chain reaction that starts with wherever the problem is�a loose wire, a failed valve�and travels through my body and up into the web of complications that is my life. Car trouble makes me realize how dependent I am on my car, which turns into a well of self-hatred I dive into, questioning all the choices I�ve made that have brought me to this moment, this terrible moment, with its flashing amber lights and�what is that, now? All the warning lights have come on? And now my car has no power. I can relate.

I restarted the car, and called the Keelhauler on the phone, in a mode just shy of hysterical, knowing I was being ridiculous. The absolute worst that could happen is that I would break down on the highway, irritating a stream of Mercedes drivers, who I would then feel justified in flipping off as they honked at me. Wow, that was ungrammatical. I lacked the capacity at that moment to diagram the sentences in my own internal monologue.

My car did this same moody withholding of forward momentum yesterday, as I left work. I restarted it, and got in and drove home to meet the Keelhauler, who was returning with our boat from a weekend at the islands with a bunch of guys. He hadn�t told me so, but I had a strong sense that he�d had engine trouble and would be sailing back. I hadn�t heard from him in a couple of days, and so�roll your eyes if it gratifies you�I pulled a card out of the Tarot deck I keep in my desk, for some insight. Lots of Tarot readers like to tell you that the appearance of the Tower signifies change, nothing to fear. Do not fall for their gentle New Age bullshit. The Tower means trouble, or an accident, or something that�trust me�may be inevitable, but will not be welcome. It�s change, all right, in the sense that a falling meteor can �change� the shape of your garage, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the New Age Tarot reader, crossing his arms and smirking, nodding his head to show you that he did, actually, predict that, see? And would you like to make an appointment for another reading?

When I turned over the Tower, I felt certain that the engine was broken. It was a suspicion I was not pleased to confirm, and I had almost talked myself into believing that the Tower was meant just for me and my car trouble when I met Brett, the bachelor who�d inspired the island trip, in the parking lot. He gave a glowing review of the weekend, praising the Keelhauler�s abilities as a captain, and leading into a casual mention that, oh, yes, by the way, they�d lost the engine on the way out. Not lost as in misplaced, but lost as in �made a distressing clunking sound and probably it is wise to shut it off and continue by sail� lost.

So, the Keelhauler is perfectly capable of sailing the boat without an engine, which he did, and anchored it and had a damn good time, and then sailed back. There were eleven guys, and three boats, and two kegs of beer, and a blowup sheep and you know, if you can�t have fun with that, then go back to the library and work on developing a nice layer of dust.

The Keelhauler feels certain that he can repair the engine. He�s not even worried about it. I am not so certain about my car, though. Like a lot of women, I dislike dealing with mechanics because I don�t understand auto repair. Experience has given me a little knowledge on the subject, but in general, it�s just enough to make me sound stupid.

�I think it�s the fuel pressure regulator,� I told the Keelhauler yesterday, discussing my car. He paused, docklines in hand, and I went on, �The fuel pressure regulator or the �thermometer.� He smiled slightly, causing insecurity on my part.

�What?� I asked.

�You�re probably right,� he said, continuing to tidy up the deck.

This morning, I woke up and realized where I�d gone awry. �The THERMOSTAT,� I said, tapping his shoulder. �I meant it is the THERMOSTAT.�

I have no idea whether it�s the thermostat or the barometer or any number of tiny little oily parts rolling around under the hood of my car that is causing the problem. The Keelhauler asked me, when I called for advice, whether the lights had just flashed, or whether the flash had accompanied the loss of power. A flash, he explained, could be a problem with the voltage regulator. No, I said, the power cut out.

Anyway, the car made it all the way to the shop, and I handed over the keys as Dave the mechanic took notes. �The warning lights all flashed,� I said, �and the car died.� He nodded. �It didn�t just flash on and off, like it�s a problem with the voltage regulator,� I added. He nodded, seeming to understand. �When it happened a second time, I hit the gas, and accelerated out of it. The engine didn�t die that time.� He nodded. I kept my thoughts about the fuel pressure regulator�which are based on nothing, really�to myself.

And� the mechanic just called. They�ve been driving the car around for a while, with no noticeable problem. But he has an idea of what it is. Is it the fuel pressure regulator? Nein. Fuel pump relay? Si. Is it at all convincing to relate that when I said �fuel pressure regulator� I actually meant �fuel pump relay�? Because I did, you know. It�s a case of thermometer/thermostat. Really. Really.

Can I afford to fix all the relays? Not really. Will paying for it overdraw me at the bank? Likely.

I�m just going to hit the gas and hope I keep moving.