Duct tape around my 1991 Honda driver's window prevents whooshing air from drowning out her radio.

Lower Accord's disabled window and it will jump the track, or worse, shatter in hundreds of pieces.

An aggressive tow-truck guy mistakenly performed a colonoscopy on my car bumper.

My mechanic says the windshield wipers "have a lot of play." Translation: they thwack off the side of the glass.

Oh, and rust is spreading like cancer.

Not to mention the vehicle's internal organs.

A few weeks after surrendering $1,500 on three operations so the car would pass its annual health exam, Honda Accord came down with a bad fever on Memorial Day.

I coaxed the ailing patient to the side of the road to avoid an engine heart attack and once again had her towed.

My car's health is similar to mine.

I avoid recommended services and preventative maintenance, such as exercise and eating vegetables beyond ketchup that I squeeze out of condiment packages.

That is, right up until I can't turn over in the morning.Surgery on my air intake valves a few years ago cleared up my congestion and migraine headaches, but pain just hitchhiked to my ankles and tailbone.

A surgeon recommended new parts for my left ankle a few years ago. He said he'd have a lot of fun doing the work and I'd get an hour or two of rest and a permanent limp.

I chose pain over limp.

That was before my daughter's severe acid reflux (yes, she did get one trait from me) kept our family up all hours of the night, causing me one zombie morning to skid off a step and wreck my tailbone.

The literal pain in the butt has proven immune to cortisone and steroids.

Hiatal hernia, torn quad, seasonal allergies, high blood pressure - not major afflictions, but resulting medical check-ups outnumber the times Honda Accord visits our family mechanic.

All this ramble begs the question: Would you rather have a good doctor or a good mechanic?

I'm still looking for both.

A few blood tests a while back apparently showed an elevated level of something or other in my liver. I pictured burger grease build-up.

The irregular blood test led the doctor to &tstr; like a mechanic - order more tests.

Later, the doctor diagnosed a "fatty" liver. He said to lose 15-20 pounds and, yes, get another blood test.

A month or two later, after losing just two pounds despite duct taping my mouth shut after 8 p.m., I got another needle prick and call from the doctor: "Test showed everything's fine."

Huh?

You mean I almost gave up steak and potato chips for nothing?

My car's diagnoses are also curious.

After the engine sputtered while driving, I took Accord in for her annual health exam.

The mechanic opened her hood and told the car to say, "Aaaah." Then he replaced the distributor, wheel cylinder and brake drums, and performed various other surgeries for $1,027.59.

Everything but correcting the problem of the car stopping while driving. The car also hesitated a little, like my ankles do at 5 a.m., and started overheating, too. So, back to the garage.

New radiator, thermostat and "A/C interferes add" - and a bill of $431.15.

Two weeks later, I took the first trip above 10 miles in my car with its fresh bill of health - and another fever struck.

Side of the road, tow truck, garage, waiting room.

Maybe I'll exercise while I wait.

CONTACT US: rrobinson@LNPnews.com or 481-6032. The Voices column is written by a rotating team of New Era staffers. It appears Mondays.  blog comments powered by Disqus