I Love my Car. Really.

Yeah, I know, I know. This blog is supposed to be about my misadventures whilst riding my scooter through the crazy streets of Baltimore, MD. But it is December in the Northeast, and it is cold. And windy. And damp. So I've been driving my car to work. Sue me. Or pay me to write this blog and I'll write about any damn thing you want.

Now that I'm putting some serious miles on the ol' Jetta, its time to actually put some work into the girl. I've had the car for almost 3 years now, and it has not really given me any problems at all, which is pretty incredible, considering I do no maintenance outside of oil changes and occasionally cleaning the windshield. Well, some issues are finally starting to creep up on me. Here's a list of the things I need to have done or do to the car, in order of seriousness/immediacy:

- Replace front brakes
- Replace brake fluid
- Fix driver's side mirror/find the asshole that broke it and beat him/her up
- Get a new spare tire
- Replace spark plugs
- Replace fuel filter
- Check struts & shocks to see what's causing that weird clunking sound when I hit any bump in the street. Baltimore has many bumps in its streets.
- Get rid of annoying mildew smell inside
- Clean it, eventually

So its not the end of the world, but it is a bit of an investment of time and/or money. The problem is that I'm absolutely convinced that I am capable of doing all of these repairs myself. Ergo, I won't take it to the shop. Nevermind the fact that I will curse every minute that I'm fixing my damn car in the street on a cold Saturday when I should be inside curled up in front of a nice warm video game. And I'll probably spend more money trying to fix it and buying incidental tools and parts than I would just taking it to the shop.

Its not my fault - really. Blame my stepdad, who never, I mean ever, took any of my family's cars to the shop unless it was under warranty, and even then he did it with great trepidation. The only problem is that he passed on the DIY attitude to me, but since I don't have his genetic make-up, I don't have the technical ability to do the work myself. Ironic, eh?

Here's to a very dirty, cold, frustrating, and expensive weekend.