Can You Identify This Symbol

The idea for this particular column was shamelessly stolen from a writer's forum upon which I participate. The work and the wording, however, is mine.

CAN YOU IDENTIFY THIS SYMBOL?

An article in the Internet news bemoaned the fact that no one knows that this particular in dash display symbol is some sort of important warning and which is blatantly ignored by the masses that simply have no clue what it means. The only reason I knew what it was at all was from the headline in the news article.

For the record, it is a tire pressure sensor warning to indicate that your tire or tires are under-inflated and possibly contributing to global warming around Al Gore’s nether regions.

My 1994 Dodge Ram Van 350 lacks those types of amenities. Since it is less complicated than newer vehicles that have computerized control panels that rival a Boeing IndustroSupremeLiner, the van has your basic two window display to tell you how hard the squirrels are working to move the squealing van down the road and a small permanently lit indicator that tells me my ABS brake system is out of order and that my oil is all gone thus burning up my engine. Neither is true, but we, and several alleged to be highly trained mechanics, have yet to find just where the evil little lights are connected to power to cause it to stay on forever.

To be fair, the van IS old and isn’t hip, new or modern. Since it lacks a lot of the new goodies that new vehicles make salesmen moist over, it has to make up for that with the knowledge of the desperate and broke that it is paid for and still works 5 days out of 7 in your average week. It does, however, offer other amenities.

The front windshield now leaks just above the drivers seat and during a cold rain is a lot like being peed upon intermittently by a chilly sparrow.

The drivers side window pees on your left leg constantly while it rains regardless of the direction of the rainfall. I have resorted to shoving a small towel up into the window at times, but this lacks the finesse of actual weather stripping since it will soak up the water and eventually it has to be dumped in a frosty river streaming onto my left thigh and down into a puddle in the seat ensuring that I get a soaking wet crotch. It makes for interesting conversation regarding my supposed lack of bladder control. Philistines!

The drivers side first passenger seat window leaks leaving a small lake in the small divot in the new carpeting where it is depressed from repeated use of Jared's wheelchair.

The drivers side last passenger seat window leaks and the water runs into the frame of the window to an undetermined location. I fully expect the back seat to fall out while I'm driving down the road any day now. I just hope the passengers that might be in the seat are quick thinkers and can avoid any oncoming traffic as the seat belts have a tendency to jam under pressure preventing people from getting out of them until brute force is applied.

As of yesterday during our most recent heavy thunderstorm, the windshield wipers no longer work. They screeched back and forth a couple of times then there was a horrible grinding noise before they gave up the ghost mid wipe in the "up" position. Now, I am reduced to only using the van on sunny days unless I develop some sort of gymnastic ability to use a squeegee from INSIDE the van while I drive.

Speaking of the sun, the van hasn't had air conditioning in years. It's a lot like a movable human oven. We survive daytime trips with the windows all open and pray for a breeze. The breeze isn't pleasant since the van has once again been soaked on the inside from the latest thunderstorm and once again smells quite a bit like a potting shed.

I've been considering putting the van up on blocks, using solar panels to operate grow lights in its interior and raising 'medical' marijuana. If it's medical grade, would I still be considered a 'pusher'? Just wondering...

Did I mention the radio? Formerly the only good thing left in the van, it is now reduced to the intermittent use of two speakers, one in front and one in back. They alternate their own volume regardless of desired settings. This gets uncomfortable when they decide the chosen volume is going to be three notches past 'my ears are bleeding, please turn it down'. Naturally, this internal setting generally occurs when I am in heavy traffic and have no way to turn it down or off and the volume pours from the windows until everyone around me thinks I am some kind of middle-aged rapper wanna be.

The radio display no longer works and getting a decent station is a crapshoot. I am also down to two stations in the preprogrammed buttons (old people's elevator music and the classical station from UA).

I am not a big fan of either one and unless I beat the front panel of the radio so I can pick up the country station I prefer to listen to instead of the squealing of the motor, I get dead silence since I generally don't have the ear buds for my iTouch.

The once wonderfully entertaining television is now useless for actual viewing since there is no longer an antenna pack (it burned out about the minute we paid it off) and the VCR eats tapes... or it would if we hadn't converted our entire movie library to DVD. Sadly for the other family members who live in a state of denial regarding the age and decrepitude of my vehicle, I am unwilling to put either an antenna or a DVD player in the van, as it will only make it more appealing to rob. And even at that, they will only take the goodies and leave the van.

While I am not fool enough to get overly wrought up about this pitiful, sad circumstance, I am frustrated from time to time in the use of this particular conveyance.

Generally, just when I need it the most, the van has the unpleasant propensity of letting me down. Way, way down. The school calls for me to pick up Jared and the van won’t start. I am not secretly using the battery to light roman candles, people!! Where in the devil did the charge go? And before you ask, YES you can use a battery to light up explosive ordinance. But don't do this yourself without a professional around or you could lose and eyebrow or a testicle... maybe both.

Sometimes, the failure of the van happens on the very day that I'm supposed to go see my doctor and ensure that I’m not about to implode due to poor choices in my diet. Just for fun and chuckles, the van whimpers to a stop in the middle of the busiest intersection in Huntsville with traffic flowing all around me.

I cannot tell you the number of times decent, Christian, Bible-thumping people have offered me a friendly ‘Hawaiian Hello’ as I sat there pitifully stalled and hoping that the jackass without any regard for others who is honking his horn and yelling at me because he's in a hurry to get to his destination won’t turn me into a giant dreidel as I block the intersection.

Though his windows are closed to encapsulate his precious A/C, I am a really good lip reader and I'm sure his Sunday School teacher didn't teach him any of those words, unless she served time in Sing-Sing.
My personal favorite moment of non modern accouterments always involves the "ancient but given to us for free" lift for the van. Seeing as how the van is the transportation for Jared, our handicapped son, the lift is always a source of amusement, aggravation and agony as the lift will let us down in plays just to show us who is the boss.

I have had my hand smacked so hard that I couldn’t use my fingers for days. The lift comes up part way, then for whatever reason, the lift cables go slack leaving the lift hanging out of the door openings by about 4 degrees. Just down enough to prevent closure, but not down enough to be in the ‘out and deployed’ position.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, or touch in this case, and I reach around the edge of the lift base to hit the one remaining switch that will close it. This is always a risky procedure. The lift can decide to suddenly take up the slack painfully pinioning your left hand between the lift and the switch arm. Unless you are part ape, the other still free right arm is not long enough to go around the lift platform to free you, nor is there space between the edge of the gate and top of the door frame to go over the gate before all circulation is destroyed. So, you twist and dance and wince as you drag wounded and bruised flesh from its temporary prison.

I am trying to be thankful. Thankful because I am not going out to the barn to hitch up the yoke of oxen to my Conestoga for a ride into Dodge City. Thankful because I am not totally without resources most of the time. Thankful because the aforementioned vehicle is paid for… warts and all.

I don’t play the lottery but it is a sore temptation. My only concern is that if I happened to play it and win, is it an unforgivable sin? Or only a way to discover familial relationships best left buried? Would I go to hell for driving a vehicle with a real warranty on it? Or is it a sin just to think about getting something new? Am I evil for not wanting another used car?

These are questions I would be willing to have answered if I had the money to do so. But as it is, I am left with the van and its idiosyncrasies.

Perhaps the van is actually a reflection of its driver. I wonder.

Please keep your answers to yourself as I am truly afraid to know the truth.

NOTE: As a bizarre addendum to this post, and in the interest of total disclosure, I was driving to the school to pick up Jared on August 20th and hit a huge pothole in the road. Instantly, I was blessed with MORE speakers, which created surround sound, and rewarded with more radio stations, including the country station I prefer to listen to rather than the grinding and squealing noises of the van's engine.

I only wonder how long this blessed state of musical interlude will last. I fear that it will have disappeared by the time I turn the key in the ignition the next time because I lack the money to keep the dang thing running 24/7 just so I can have music while I sweat and drive.