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My attempts to replace the factory radio in my beloved Subaru Forester have failed, miserably. The beautiful new stereo I purchased lies dead on my dash, no matter how hard I hope when I turn the ignition.
Despite the NPR withdrawal I’m going through, I think I’m okay with the situation, because in the process of destroying my car, I’ve learned a few things:
More than this, I’ve gained enough of an understanding for how my car works, that my Forester is no longer an intimidating black box. When I was 16 and inherited my first car, I vividly remember my dad’s instructions: “Take it to the dealership when you’re supposed to. Don’t try to fix it yourself; you’ll just end up breaking it.”
As it turns out, my dad was right, I “shot my eye out”, if you will. But this weekend I’m going to break out the soldering iron again and get my stereo working. And the next time my Forester breaks and I fix it myself, I think I’ll give him a call. Maybe he needs someone to fix his car.