My son’s car stalled on the way home from work on a long
lonely road. He and my husband spent days diving into the darkest recesses
under the hood finding several problems and fixed them. Another couple of days and it was all back
together.
It wouldn’t start.
Back under the hood they went, taking the thing apart again,
layer at a time exposing those nether regions, tweaking this, tweaking that. Then,
with greater care, it went back together, bolt by bolt.
It started. It leaked oil.
Refusing to haul it to the junkyard, however tempting, my
son went online looking for solutions. The engine must get hot to seal the
gasket, he discovers. He lets the car idle. No leaks. He drives it around the
neighborhood. No leaks. He takes it on the freeway. No leaks.
Success. We celebrate.
A week later, it stalls on the same road coming home from
work. Disappointment is putting it mildly. He arranges to have it towed. What
could it be? Timing chain? Water pump? Valves?
Nope. It was out of gas. 
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