Radiator springs

So, I was pulling into my parents’ driveway when I smelled what I thought was antifreeze.
Weird, I thought.
I reasoned it this way: I had cut my air conditioner on for the first time this year. That must be what caused it.
I know what you are thinking. You are thinking – what does your air conditioner have to do with antifreeze? To which I answer – I have no clue. But I needed cause and effect.
I got out of the car and went to the front. The smell was stronger. And my engine was steaming. And hissing. And there was a small puddle developing under the car.
Most likely not the air conditioner, I brilliantly concluded.
I went on inside and was talking to my dad. “I think my car’s broken,” I said. He asked what was wrong.
I told him it was steaming and dripping from the radiator.
He stared at me much in the same way you would stare at someone who had just intentionally stuffed a fork in his own eye.
It was evident that this was not the kind of thing you merely walk away from, shrug and hope it fixes itself.
I went back outside and popped the hood.
Normally, with car repair, I might as well open the back door and look for the problem because I have no idea what to look for.
The only way I would have been able to fix it is if there was a large button that read “PUSH TO MAKE RADIATOR STOP LEAKING.”
Surprisingly, I was able to notice something that was amiss. There is a large container under the hood, with the phrase “Radiator coolant” on it.
It was right next to the windshield wiper fluid reservoir, so I was well versed in opening this complex device.
I popped it open and noticed that it was bone dry. I went back inside and told my dad it was dry.
“Should I put water in it?” He said yes, but I feel certain his brain was screaming, “No, genius, fill it with mustard.”
When I got home, I called a neighbor over to take a look.
He knows way more about cars than I do, and even has those ramp thingees that you drive your car up on so that you can climb under it for some reason.
I popped the hood and handed him a flashlight. He asked me if I had checked the radiator fluid.
At that point, I realized that there was another place to put water directly in the radiator, in addition to the reservoir.
I opened it up and noticed it, too, was quite dry.
I filled it up with water and cranked the car.
Based on the spewing water and the developing puddle underneath my car, one might surmise that the leak had not magically fixed itself.
At that point, I called my brother-in-law, who is a mechanic. I explained to him what was wrong.
“You need a new radiator.” I asked him if I could fix the leak. “No, you need a new radiator.”
After about the 11th question, I think he was growing tired of saying, “No, you need a new radiator.”
The next day, I called around several places to get estimates.
Apparently, installing a radiator is the mechanical equivalent of tying a shoe.
Everyone I spoke to told me that they could do it, that it would only take a few hours, and that they would most likely do it during a nap break since it was such a breeze.
Sure enough, in a couple of hours (and a few hundred dollars later), my car was fixed, and there was no longer a smelly puddle underneath my car every time I stopped.
While I would rather not have had to spend the money, it was nice to know it could be fixed with relative ease. Next time something like this happens, maybe I should try to fix it myself.
I could even borrow those ramp thingees. For some reason.