Sludge in the Engine - 2002 Toyota Camry V4

Remember my 2002 Toyota Camry I just bought to replace my Saturn? The car I've had for less than 6 weeks? The car we paid cash for?

History. Toast. Buh-bye.

The oil light came on when we drove to Washington, causing us to turn around and come home and select a different car. We took the car into the Toyota dealership this weekend and they called to say there is a bunch of metal in the oil pan and the engine is filled with sludge. We can either replace or rebuild the engine, both of which will run close to $6000.

Massive bummer.

Per the dealership, they say the sludge comes from whoever had the car before us not keeping it up. That seems odd, as I know the person who drove the car before us and am positive she had regular oil changes. At my best friend's urging, I went online to do some due diligence and learned that sludge in the engine is a HUGE problem for Toyota, and in fact there has just been a settlement this February with Toyota and Lexus owners (Not that the dealership we took it to bothered to mention this). However, my year car is not included in the settlement. Still, I went to consumer affairs and there are multiple reports of my year/make/model car with engine sludge and owners adamant that they kept the car up. Apparently, Toyota's kneejerk reaction is always to say, "The car wasn't kept up. Nothing's covered."

Our choice is to repair the engine or bail and get a new car. We were aiming for repairs, but as we started talking to the dealership we started getting more of the "Well, we won't know what we're going to find until we're in there," talk, and that makes me nervous. Very nervous. I don't want to throw good money after bad and end up with a $16,000 car that's worth about $7000 and may still have future problems. So now we're looking at buying another used car. And we all know how enamored I am of that process. I'd rather run three marathons back to back then deal with buying another used car.

The good news is, there's no rush. I'm going to take my time and look and compare. And most likely file a complaint with Toyota, if I can prove the car was maintained properly but still developed sludge.

I'm trying to look on the bright side. It kills me to see all the money just slide away--might as well have burned it. But on the other hand, something of this nature would do a lot of people in and leave them with no options. We're not anywhere near that point, so I'm trying to count our blessings.

Selling Cat Books at District 37

Today I participated in an author signing for the Toastmasters District 37 Spring Conference. I thought I might be lucky to sell one or two books, so was thrilled to sell twelve.  Aside from capturing Darren LaCroix for a photo (and btw, he did apparently use the bit about me driving him down a one-way street in his speech last night. Several people came up to me today and asked, "Did you really do that?" Let's hope they never see yesterday's blog...), I managed to get a couple of me at my table. I corralled the one guy below into holding up my book and acting like an interested customer. The real ones are just too hard to find... ;)  And check out the pashmina. The woman selling them asked the female book authors to model them and made quite a few sales that way. Including one to me, as I bought the one I'm seen wearing below.
Dena & Enthralled Customer - Click to enlarge. 
Dena in Pashmina: Click to enlarge

Why Darren LaCroix is the Nicest Guy In The World or How I Flashed the 2001 World Champion of Public Speaking - Part II

PART II

Darren & Dena - Click to enlargeI got Darren to the station. I’ve accomplished my goal. Almost. I was told to go to the front door and announce I had Darren LaCroix for his interview. We walk—in the pouring rain—to the front door and stare into a dark lobby with an unmanned security desk. We buzz. And buzz. And buzz. No dice.

For the second time, I pull out my phone and call Blair, this time to ask him to pull up the station’s phone number. Only he’s just powered down the computer so we have to wait for it to reboot. Did I mention we’re standing outside in the rain and are, by this time, late for our arrival?

As we’re standing there, Darren turns to me and asks, “If you had broccoli in your teeth, would you want someone to tell you?”

My hand flies to my mouth. I had a banana for breakfast and I brushed after that. How could I…? Then Darren—world’s nicest guy—says, “You’re coming undone,” and apologetically gestures to my shirt. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that’s right. After driving him down a one-way street the wrong way, leading him to an apparently abandoned TV station, and getting him soaking wet, I am now FLASHING Darren LaCroix. Oh. My. God.

At that point, a cameraman shows up and tells us he can’t unlock the front door, and we need to get back in the car and he’ll let us through the security gate. We walk to the car in the rain, get in, drive two feet through the security gate, park, and we’re finally inside the station.

So my goal in agreeing to chauffer Darren was that it would be good one-one-one time where we could connect in a professional yet relaxed environment. The result was:

• Getting lost
• Making a major traffic violation while simultaneously endangering the life of the person I’m hoping to impress
• Appearing to be a weeny-woman who has to call her husband—twice—to bail her out.
• Exposing Darren to rain-related cold and flu symptoms
• Exposing Darren to my chest

The only thing that would have made it better is if we had caught it all on film. Darren pulled out his video camera at the station as he’s recording behind-the-scene footage in the life of a public speaker for U-Tube. I was actually sorry he didn’t have the camera out for the one-way street and unbuttoned shirt. That would have been funny.

When I dropped Darren at the hotel, I said, “I am so sorry for all the confusion. I feel terrible about it.” I paused, then added, “But on the bright side, I did flash you.” Darren laughed and assured me all was fine. He really is an incredible easygoing and nice guy. And an incredible speaker, should you ever have the chance to hear him or train with him.

After I dropped Darren off, I called my best friend.

“Tell me I’m not the world’s biggest dork,” I said. “I need to hear the words.”

“What happened?”

I told her.

“Is there maybe a bridge or something tall nearby you can jump off?” she asked.

“It gets better,” I said. “Since it’s raining, I left my hair curly and I pretty much resemble an electrified poodle.”

“A topless electrified poodle.”

“Yes.”

Maybe I won’t jump just yet. Darren had his interview and who knows? Maybe I’ve provided him new material for his comedy routine. So it all worked out.

I get to see Darren tomorrow at the conference. Bet your mama I’ll be wearing a pullover, buttonless shirt.

Why Darren LaCroix is the Nicest Guy In The World or How I Flashed the 2001 World Champion of Public Speaking - Part I

PART I

In 2001, Darren LaCroix beat out 25,000 other speakers to become the World Champion of Public Speaking. Since that time, he has spoke to companies and audiences around the world, authored books, and presented speaking boot camps.

Darren is the keynote speaker this weekend at our Toastmaster District 37 Spring Conference. Earlier this week, one of our District officers asked if I could drive Darren to a 5:45 a.m. TV interview he had with WXII. Although it meant getting up at 3:30, I didn’t mind. Shepherding people is a great way to get face time with busy individuals, and I was interested in talking to Darren about his speaking.

What many of you may not know is that I am directionally challenged. Severely. I’ll get lost in the bathroom if there’s not a sign on the toilet pointing me toward the shower. So in preparation, I mapquested directions from my house to Darren’s hotel, as well as from the hotel to WXII.

I should have been warned when the directions to the hotel were off. Mapquest had me turning the wrong way down a one-way street. I circled the block and managed to find my way there. Met Darren in the lobby. Very nice man in a lovely suit. We walked to my car, which I’d parked under the awning as it was pouring rain.

So we set off in the dark and the rain—neither, by the way, which I can see in. I try to avoid driving at night and in the rain whenever possible. But whatever.

Mapquest said to take Cherry Street to Marshall Street. But the first street we came to was Marshall. Yea! This would be easier than I thought. I turned on Marshall and within a mile we dead-ended in a construction parking lot. Okaaay. I must have gone the wrong way on Marshall. I turn the car around and start back up the street. Only when I pass through a traffic light do I realize that I’m going the wrong way down a one-way street.

Crap, crap, crap. I’m trying to appear calm and in control and Darren—world’s nicest guy—is acting like he believes me. But we both suspect we’re screwed.

We start back at the hotel and follow the mapquest directions. We get on Cherry Street but guess what? Marshall runs parallel to Cherry and there’s no way to turn on it. In desperation, I call Blair. Thankfully, Cherry Street was correct and that took us right to WXII.