Mysteries Under the Hood

I like to think of myself as woman of the millenium. Independent and able to take care of myself. I have been known to snake a drain, move a piano by myself to clean carpets and make a mean batch of scotcheroos. However, I must admit that I know virtually nothing about my car.
I was in the market for a new vehicle in the fall of 2007. My brother was overjoyed by the news, dedicating his Saturdays to driving around every car lot in the Bismarck/Mandan area in search of the perfect car. It had to be a four-door, as I have outgrown the novelty of a two-door vehicle that requires you to crawl out of the backseat. I wanted a CD player and air conditioning. Not an impressive list of demands, but I was transitioning from a Ford Contour, so almost anything was a step up. For three and a half weeks, I looked, test drove, avoided salepeople, dodged phones call from the more desperate dealership employees and prayed that God would lead me to the car I was supposed to buy. My brother is a Dodge man; I have no preference. He got a little misty the day I finally decided on my Dodge Stratus.
Unlike the old Forde, my 2006 Stratus could keep up with traffic speeds, even on hills. I didn't have to turn the air conditioning off while idling at intersections to keep the engine from dying. I still haven't completely gotten over the novelty of having a new vehicle.
About two months ago, I had to have the car jump started after accidentally leaving the trunk ajar for about five hours. Not a big deal, just an inconvenience. Three weeks later, during a bitter cold spell, it refused to turn over in the church parking lot after worship. Both times, kind, saintly friends battled the frigid temps to jump start the car and get me going again. I had the battery and the alternator checked and both were deemed find. This weekend, the car did not turn over when I returned from a trip to Dickinson. Fortunately for me, the kindly college student that jump started my car knows her way around the inside of the hood. Sunday afternoon, no dice. Dead in the garage.
Everything under the hood of my car is a complete mystery to me. I don't know what that stuff does. I know that you start the car and drive. You need to put gas in. On cold winter days, you need to use gas with ethanol. You need to change the oil every 3,000 miles or so. The people at the oil change place refill my fluids. Sounds a little strange, but they offered! I was actually talked in to the fact that I needed to have my muffler belt changed. Yikes!
I am so blessed to have friends, men in my church family and a brother who knows a bit more than I about what's under the hood. They have given me a great deal of valuable advice, endured harsh weather conditions to get my car going and teach me what they can about car maintenance. The topic of conversation at the church potluck last night was my car troubles. Apparently there is a connection between my starter getting cold and a problem that disguises itself as a battery issue. People are going all out solve this for me. I'll keep you posted.
In the meantime, we are due for another 4 to 7 inches of snow with blowing and drifting snow and zero visibility. It may be a moot point whether my car starts of not if I can't get out of my garage. The joys of winter on the prairie.