My 1989 Suburban, The She-Sub, my infamous much-beloved vehicle, appears to be at the end of her life. Two or three weeks ago my daughters borrowed it to use in a moving-to-the-city-hauling-furniture-and-stuff venture. On the way home that night, it began leaking “something”, and it died. We had to make a middle-of-the-night dash to go get the vehicle (and my daughter), both sitting on the crest of a dark hill along the highway, to bring them home, towing the Suburban.
Last week my husband thought he figured out what was wrong with it,
and we thought he had it fixed. But it was not to be. It's
perplexing. At this point, we don't have a clue, and we can't afford
to take her to the Doctor...ummm, I mean mechanic.
Joe is in the process of talking to individuals knowledgeable on the
subject of mechanical automotive topics, and he's going to see if he
can perform a miracle. He honestly thinks it's “fixable”; he
just has to figure out what “it” is.
This story is a work-in-progress.