So, I was driving home from Logan (about 30 miles and one shallow mountain pass) when I heard an odd, intermittent slipping or grinding sound. It got progressively worse, so I decided to pull into the repair place in Tremonton (about 7 miles from home). As it was only a half hour from closing, they briefly looked at it and declared that most likely it was due to some belt slipping, not a problem, bring it back Monday. About half a block out of the parking lot, the radio couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on, every light on the dashboard lit up and the power steering decided to go on vacation. I managed to horse it back to the repair place, where the explanation now transitioned to “sounds like your alternator’s screwed up.” They still couldn’t get to it until Monday, but they wanted to pull it into the shop… but putting the key in the ignition and turning it resulted in little more than a brief “uhhh” from the engine compartment then… nada. So, we pushed it in and I got a ride home.
Yaaaaaaaaay.
Well, if your car *has* to die, I guess ten feet from the repair shop’s entrance is the place to have it happen.