You have to own a really old car these days to do your own significant repairs.

Back when I was in college, there was a day when I helped someone replace a head gasket on their car’s engine.  We did it in the yard, under a shade tree, on a warm July day.

Changing the oil, changing the spark plugs, replacing burned out bulbs in the tail lights—-simple enough work; putting on a new head gasket was a little more complicated, but it would be done.

When I bought my car  nine years ago (gasp!), I popped open the hood about the second or third time I got gas so I could check the oil.  I spent several minutes trying to find the dipstick.

Heck, I couldn’t even find the engine!  It was, and is, under some big plastic cover. The only things readily visible were the radiator overflow tank, the windshield washer fluid reservoir, and access to one pole on the battery.

I got frustrated and resorted to reading the owner’s manual.

My car does not have a dipstick.

If I want to check the oil I have to turn on the car, turn a knob that brings up the correct maintenance category on the screen, scroll down until I get to “oil,” and it tells me how much I have left and how many miles I can go before I need to add more.

I have had my car now for more than nine years.  I bet I haven’t opened the hood more than ten times for anything other than cleaning dead leaves out of the windshield wiper resting areas and pouring stuff into the windshield washer fluid reservoir.

A few days ago I got a warning on my dashboard that my right turn signal wasn’t working correctly.  A few days later my dashboard told me my right brake light wasn’t working correctly either.

Understand that I am no more mechanically oriented that my cat is capable of typing Hamlet on my computer.  So I took the car to the dealership in Columbia where, after it was plugged into a shop computer, the dealership learned that indeed, my turn signal and tail light weren’t working.  The cost of this computer diagnosis was $99.

In the old days I would have had Nancy go stand at the right rear corner of the car and I would ask her to tell me if the lights were working.

Then the service manager told me they couldn’t fix the car that day because they had to order a new taillight assembly.   So I’m headed back to Columbia Wednesday, the seventh day after paying $99 dollars to have a computer tell me something Nancy would have told me for free.

And replacing a light bulb is out of the question.  I need a whole new “assembly.”   I don’t know how much the assembly will cost or how much the labor will be to install it.

Probably a whole lot more than I would have spent at the local auto parts store for two light bulbs in the old days.