I've been remiss on follow-up for the Hot Red Speed saga. She failed me five, count them, FIVE times. Mr. Joy Agent took her under his wing and found that her fuel filter had become nearly impenetrable. Seems they should be changed every 50,000 miles or so -- she's got 137,000 under her [serpentine] belt. Joy Agent loaned me her car while the van was in his care. A secondary part broke during replacement so there were a few extra days spent driving a Toyota Avalon (I have sedan cravings now). When all was said and done, Joy Agent returned to me a freshly washed and vacuumed Hot Red Speed that was, in fact, hotter, redder and a lot speedier than before.
And after a dozen or so starts in varying degrees of, well, weather, I finally started to trust her again.
I trusted her so much, in fact, that I didn't listen to myself when I noticed that it had been a long time since I'd filled her up. She gave me the "Beep. You're down to 1/8 tank" three or four times, but the gauge didn't lower. So I kept driving. Until...
Yes. You know exactly what happened.
Initially, I feared we were back to the drawing board with more car woes. But I first called a friend whose house I'd just left and asked her to grab a gallon of gas and head my way. The van gave a rather hesitant start, but kept chugging then slowly came up to her normal idle. Sheesh. I'm foolish.
Because I have the best friends in the world.