LOW TIRE PRESSURE WARNING BLUES

A year or two ago both my wife Dede and I had had our fun and games with low tire pressure lights, she in her Scion xB and me in my 2012 Ford Fiesta SE.* 

Both cars were last model year vehicles in pretty good shape.

Some who might know my motorsports background won’t be surprised that I have a good quality tire pressure gauge and applied it to all four wheels only about an hour or two after she told me that the light had come on as she fired the car up leaving work (Dede did a visual and applied a toe-test kick to all four tires before heading out on her short seven or eight-mile transit from work).

I checked all four tires twice, they were all aired-up both fine AND dandy. By that time the little xB was just out of its warranty period and had survived the great Takata Airbag Recall for a gnarly inadvertent deployment problem that laid the car up for two, almost three months.

During that time her tires neither lost nor gained pressure, and I’m pretty sure that the carbon monoxide which filled our old (hundred and more year-old) farm garage did in a few of the barn rats that liked to hang out in there.

Subsequently both of us saw the dreaded little dash light and both of us had four tires (and the spare) that all were aired-up and all clocked-in within a pound and a half of each manufacturer’s guidance sticker inside the right rear door opening on both machines.

Just for the record here an in-tire pressure sensor for our Scion goes for $162.89 at the nearby parts counter at Toyota of Pasadena. That does not include any labor costs for testing the old unit, removing the old unit, walking over to the trash barrel and s-canning the faulty one, reinstalling and then (mysteriously) “programming” the new one.

Both cars dutifully went in to have the units replaced.  The xB got a new one and the Scion driver (me) was only in the waiting room for 20 minutes max when the service guy came in and said, “Car’s Ready, Mister Stokes” and “Nothing wrong, the right rear was low.” There’s a balance to karma that defies all logic and even sometimes supersedes dumb luck.

The big, blue internet to the ‘rescue’

Just like everything else (like do-it-yourself-at-home-impacted wisdom tooth removal kits, using common drugstore toenail tools for quick, effective vasectomies, vision-correcting acid eye-drop formula concocted from common household chemicals and margarine, and other alchemy and illusions out the flank), one can find all manner of ways to remove and replace a faulty tire pressure sensor right at home.

Of course, jacking up a car to use its massive weight to bring a wooden block down on the sidewall of a tire that’s laying (unsecured of course) on the garage floor (or worse yet, on the street or driveway) to break the bead so one can get at the sensor unit that’s bolted to the tire rim.  

The watching is fully cringe-worthy.  I recommend garage floor tyro mechanics stop by a local sports equipment shop and buy a sports “cup”.  

I can just see that block of wood popping out at the wrong time and catching an unwary mechanic in the area that’s north of the knees and south of the naval.  Doing your own dentistry is about the same silliness. (Note: This is an official LA Car DO NOT do-it-yourself project).

The Tale of the Talisman

And then there was the little Mobil “pay at the pump” key ring do-dad.  I think, a very early iteration of “Pay at the Pump” and tapping the screen to charge a tank of gas.  

I had the thing, used for months with nary a snag and then one day as I merrily rolled along in my trusty Ford Focus on the way to work, the engine started to stumble (felt like it was running out or we had really bad fuel on board) and finally just plain quit solid.

Luckily, I was not far from our local Ford dealer, and have an Auto Club card that shows I been a member for (many) decades.  

So, we got a tow and a ride to work.  About an hour and a half later, I get a call: 

“Mister Stokes, your car is ready.”

When I got there the service writer saw me and called the tech who had worked on my car join us in the tech shed.  

“See this,” he said holding up the little black tube with the Mobil flying red horse on it.  “Well, it got too close to the ignition key module and the key module thought that someone was trying to steal your car so it shut it down.”

That module, that magic little “pay at the pump” (actually they send you a bill) talisman had been hanging there quietly for months, maybe/almost a year.  But I wonder if somehow shutting my car down when it did might kept a drunken driver speeding through the next intersection down the road from taking me and my trusty Focus out.

Talismans are like that.  - DS

* Highly modified with a rear disc brake conversion kit from Taiwan, and a K&N air filer making a mean/sucking sound on heavy gas pedal application.