Theo, this one’s for you.

My problems really started in October, when I found myself unable to fall asleep because I’d catch myself forgetting to breathe.  I was certain this was due to stress because I was going through a nasty breakup, had a minor nervous breakdown, was organizing a BarCamp, and oh yeah…San Diego caught on fire.  During all this I happened to have my blood pressure taken at my eye doctor’s office, which they said was "a bit high."  I started monitoring it at my local drugstore, and I started consistently staying around 140 over…I never remember the bottom number, so let’s just say it was 140/bad. 

I got even further behind when I flew to Virginia for Thanksgiving.  The day after I got there, I seemed to come down with a wicked case of food poisoning.  I was able to manage myself by the time my flight was scheduled to leave, so I expected I’d get my strength back in a couple of days.  But I never did.  I stayed fatigued and without much of an appetite until a month later, I had another digestive fire drill (think about it…"everybody out").  After the third time, I started calling them "episodes" and became officially concerned.

I started going to the doctor sometime in the middle of January.  I admitted up front that I expected all my health issues to be related to stress, but he informed me that I was almost a classic presentation of hyperthyroidism, so he sent me off for bloodwork.  On a whim, the doc did some airflow testing as well, which I apparently failed miserably.  That got me a chest xray and more bloodwork, but all of these results came up clear.

By this point, I’d already lost almost 20 lbs due to malnutrition.  Not only was I not hungry, I found myself being scared to eat.  Scared that something in my diet would trigger another episode.  Doc said my digestive problems were due to irritable colon (yay), and to start taking a fiber supplement twice a day.  Begrudgingly, I bought some chews at Henry’s that said they tasted like chocolate, but ended up tasting more like an almost-tootsie-roll-flavored Tums (which I’ve since discovered are actually one of the more palatable on the market).  They helped, but eating was still a chore.

About a week later, @emp invited me to drive up to LA with him for Hollywood Hill to see @ori, and afterwards we ended up meeting @boogah, @seanbonner, @escapist, and @mikipedia at a vegan joint called Pure Luck.  I really didn’t want to go, to be honest, but I’m so glad that Alex talked me into it because it actually ended up being a pivotal moment in my life.  The seemingly uninteresting seitan and sweet potato burrito I ordered was the first meal I’d had in ages that didn’t make me feel like shit.  I’d always considered trying veganism, but I’d always felt like there was no way I could give up my precious meat and cheese.  But since I was in a state where I really didn’t care if I ate or not, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to try an alternative diet.  So that night, I secretly turned vegan.

Fast forward a couple more weeks to my next appointment, and the doctor is puzzled with my stream of flawless test results.  He ended up putting me on a type of medication called a beta-blocker, Atenolol in my case, which reduces the effects of adrenaline on the heart.  He admitted he was treating the symptoms and not the cause, but he really wanted to see my blood pressure lower than it was.  So at 26, I was officially taking heart medicine.  But the drugs plus my new diet helped a ton.  Within a week my blood pressure was down to 100/80 in the mornings, and as long as I actually ate all the fiber I was adding kept me regular as clockwork.

Follow up appointment in late February, and now I’m sharing concerns with my circulation.  It’s worth noting that at this point I started feeling quite hypochondrial since I was functioning well enough to consider normal, but the doctor seemed to take all my concerns seriously so I kept telling him the weird little things that were out of the ordinary for me.  So with my circulation, I’d notice my lhands and feet would start turning blue.  The worst of this was one night where my thighs looked like they were bruising right in front of my eyes.  Doctor ran another set of blood tests, including rheumatism and something else rather unexpected, which of course were all perfect.  Since I was reporting occasional palpitations as well, He did an ECG in his office (normal).  That’s when he referred me to have the echocardiogram and stress test that I had yesterday.

I was really nervous, but the procedures weren’t bad at all (although I admit I was more nervous about what they might find rather than the process).  The echo took about 10 minutes and only involved three electrodes and that nasty ultrasound gel (which they had thankfully warmed), while the stress test required ten electrodes and an intimidatingly large belt pack that hooked into the recording machine.  Some days my heart pounds so hard that I have to stop after a flight of stairs, so I’m kinda surprised I was able to stay on the treadmill for the full 10 minutes to hit my target heart rate of 190.  But as far as they could tell, all my pipes are hooked up the way they’re supposed to be.

Good.  I told everyone I was crazy in the first place.

All in all, I really do think I’m ok at this point.  I’m eating and sleeping within normal specifications, I haven’t noticed any circulation problems in a while, and I haven’t been relying on the Atenolol to regulate my blood pressure for several weeks now.  I still get palpitations if I get really stressed for a few days, but as long as it won’t kill me I’d rather listen to my body and adjust accordingly instead of relying on medication.   I’m expecting one more follow up appointment with my primary physician, but after that I’m confident that I can be back in control. 

When we worked on The Diva – the primary impression was that the hotel needed to convey sensuality in some manner. For me, hotels are about getting away from every day patterns, a break from one’s normal life. They are about sleeping in a new bed, great linens, using as much hot water as you want, room service, getting up late, and having sex in the middle of the day.

Yes, yes, yes, and more yes.  Friday will NOT come soon enough.

I’ve toyed with the idea of making a State of the Lisa post to explore where I’ve been in 2007 and where I want to go in 2008, but I’ve been putting it off because I really haven’t wanted to drudge around in my 2007 thoughts more than absolutely necessary.  Not that it was a particularly bad year, mind you.  I got involved with some really great organizations, exciting projects, and have generally learned a whole heck of a lot about myself.  But I think now in 2008 I need to focus on taking all this stored up energy and take it to the next level.  It’s time to release.

I feel like I’m growing more in this regard every day, but I still need to release myself from the past.  I catch myself in moments where I’m either stunned with resentment or reminiscing about the Earth-that-was, but I’m learning to let these moments of emotion flow through to completion rather than dwell or shut them out.  Utmost thanks to those who have taught me to fully experience and appreciate the joys and sorrows that compose the human condition.  You know who you are.

In the software world, release also has a different connotation…to get a product out the damn door.  I have a moleskine that has pages of midnight inspirations covering a surprisingly eclectic spread of verticals, and I just now have a release candidate waiting on my desktop that’s only the tip of Technarium’s iceberg.  No offence meant to Dave…he’s a saint for making sense of my visions and putting up with an encroaching managerial thought process ("I don’t know what, I don’t know how, but I want it to work with Facebook."), but I want a more active role in what I see actually implemented.  Maybe it means getting Dave a minion, maybe it means developing more myself, (Dave, if you say it means "finding an icon" I swear to your god I will stab you in the face), but I will be a part of some great apps to be released in 2008.

Cheers to a new year.

So when I found a can of Dinty Moore brand beef stew in the short but sweet grocery isle of the neighborhood drugstore a few days ago, I was sure I had found a feast worthy of being my Christmas dinner.  I took my treasured can home and left it under the Christmas tree until it was time for my holiday feast.

I cranked off the lid to find not a can swimming with luxurious gravy, but a similarly colored yet not entirely appetizing brown gel.  I was still greeted with the same carrots and smaller yet appropriately textured potatoes, but no visible meat.  Worrying now about the quality of my dinner to be, I dug out a familiar brown chunk and tested it.  While not particularly bad flavored, the meat reminded me more of a wad of wet sawdust that someone had briefly explained the role of stew meat to, but had not experienced it first hand.

What real Dinty Moore brand beef stew should look like.

This last atrocity being too much for me to bear, I put the opened can on the floor for the cats and ate a bowl of cereal.

I wish I didn’t have to admit it, but this is not the first time such events have taken place.  I used to LOVE macaroni and cheese, but boxes I’ve bought over the past 9 years just don’t have the cheesy tanginess that I’m used to (which has caused more than one poor box of macaroni to be hurled across my kitchen in frustration).  I’ve been similarly disappointed with Healthy Choice dinners.  I used to think that was pretty damn quality food (for a tv dinner), and now I won’t even buy them on clearance.

Has packaged food quality really taken such a drastic turn for the worse, or am I so acclimated to the typical California Organic Everything ™ movement that now I see these foods for what they really are?  This starving hippy geek would love to know.

Or just download the mp3.

PS: I have no idea what song he sings.

1. I am a perfectionist.  Striving for perfection makes me stagnant.
2. I am an emotional strip miner.  I bond very quickly and explosively to certain people throughout my life to fill some need.  Once that need is met, it can become hard for me to relate.
3. I am afraid of being a nobody.  I do not live up to my image.
4. I am afraid of establishing myself as a single entity.  I always feel lost without having another person’s energy as a compass.
5. I relate to people easiest through understanding and supporting gender roles.  This is called seduction.
6. I am afraid and avoidant of conflict.  This leads to other forces determining outcomes instead of myself.
7. My fantasies and imagination make me complacent.  Visualizing myself doing what I want fulfills me for a period of time, leaving me without ambition to actually accomplish those goals.
8. I have no concept of emotional boundaries.  This is probably the most dangerous thing I’ve ever realized about myself.

PS:  I learned at WordCamp 2007 that if you post lists with an uneven number of items, it unconsciously encourages readers to participate to round out that list for you…

Thirty spokes around the hub:
In their nothingness consists the carriage’s effectiveness.
One hollows the clay and shapes it into pots:
In its nothingness consists the pot’s effectiveness.
One cuts out doors and windows to make the chamber:
In their nothingness consists the chamber’s effectiveness.

Therefore: what exists serves for possession.
What does not exist serves for effectiveness.

Secondary benefit…having to carry your food items home instead of wheeling them out to your car makes you a lot more conscientious of what you buy. The extra effort required makes those cookies a lot less appetizing compared to the stuff you actually need.

I really enjoyed my walk tonight, though. It only took me an hour to get there and back, the night air was refreshing, and there was a live band playing outside a coffee shop that could be heard most of the trip. It reminded me a lot of being in San Francisco.

A lot of things remind me of being in San Francisco these days…

Appetizing, huh? I can’t get enough of it, and I can’t figure out why. Am I turning into a health food nut, or am I preferring boring foods in general because of some sub-conscious decision that I don’t deserve to gluttonously enjoy meals? Perhaps more importantly…Why am I so comforted by this blander diet?

Stress is a funny, funny thing. In some ways I’m just happy that I’m able to eat at all.

I think I just accidentally registered for college.

Tonight I left my mother in the casino so I could try to actually write from the deck, but the latter part of this plan failed for a number of reasons. One, this really isn’t a laptop-friendly ship and I couldn’t find anywhere to set up that wasn’t stuck in a corner and freezing. Two, the night sky over the ocean wasn’t nearly as inspirational as I expected it would be. No stars, no lights on the horizon, just infinite pitch black. I stared into it for a few minutes and was eerily both drawn to and repulsed by it in that “œif you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you” sort of way, so I decided I’d be safer to write from the library. Several of the passageways have cozy nooks and crannies where I’d like to set up sometime, but at night the bars there are overflowing with loud people and louder music. Tomorrow is another day at sea, so maybe I can slip off a bit then.

Speaking of slipping off, after leaving mom to nap after our Cabo excursion I found a semi-quiet place to read my prescribed book for the trip, Franny and Zooey. My honest first reaction…Salinger uses commas like crack cocaine. I got the shorter first section finished, but I doubt I’ll have a chance to read any more of it before disembarking Thursday.

I discovered today how really useless I am without technology. Well, not quite useless…I’m just so used to having something electronic handy to record thoughts and ideas as they pop into my head before I forget them or at least forget how I originally wanted to phrase them. I’ve been asking the staff for a pen and paper all afternoon to record bits and pieces so I can recall them now when I have time to flesh those ideas out a bit.

One such event I had to write down was something I overheard a hopefully autistic teenage boy muttering as he was walking down the hall: The ship’s moving and nobody knows why. I’ll find out after I go kill my mom and dad, mom and dad. He didn’t get my attention at all until the whole killing part, and eye contact I made with another gentleman nearby confirmed we both heard the same thing. It wasn’t until I wrote down the whole bit after I scrambled for some paper when I realized the first line is the brilliant part. The ship’s moving and nobody knows why. I have to admit that something inside me felt the same after doing nothing but floating around and eating for that long.

So while I was wandering to overhear the aforementioned, I was scouring the ship looking for my mother after reading all I could read in one sitting in such an environment. She was supposed to meet me on deck, but I never saw her. She never has any idea where we’re going when we’re together, so I was afraid she’s either gotten lost or stopped to gamble or god for bid even gotten hurt somehow…anyway, after looking for about an hour and I was starting to think how much this kinda sucked, one of those oddball events struck me that reminds me that everything happens for a reason. There was a show about to start in one of the lounges, and I was walking down the stairs from the balcony trying to see if mom was waiting for me there. Suddenly, I felt a bump against me and saw a small flash of blond and legs as a little girl fell backwards in my general direction. With reflexes that surprised me, I reached into the tumble of child and found an arm, saving her from going head over heels down the marble staircase. Parents came close behind so I didn’t have to deal with the inevitable tears that followed, but the fact that I found my own mother not 5 minutes later really seemed to reinforce that I’m in tune with some wacky energy our there.

Ever since I walked in the library, there’s been a loud squeaking noise coming from somewhere that’s been driving me mad. I just now found the source to be a display case and borrowed a few pages from a discarded New Yorker magazine to wedge between the offending pieces of metal. The elderly gentleman reading in here with me smiled gratefully and with some amusement.

More I’ve discovered about my new grinding habit…it’s not necessarily typing that triggers it, but percussive noises, like drums. Or perhaps it’s things that get into my brain with some sort of a rhythmic pattern, because I’ve also noticed I do it more when I’m doing lots of shading in photoshop.

This is going to sound weird, but I really like ordering in the main dining room. There’s something strangely satisfying about closing my menu and being able to say “œI’d like to start off the salmon, a Caesar salad, and the filet mignon. And I’d like that with your red zinfandel, please” while the rest of the table is umming and pawing at their menus. I’ve never ordered that way in my life, but the first time I sat down in that dining room it’s like some sort of instinct kicked in that even my mother noticed.

I have more notes left that I wanted to write about, but I promised mom I’d be back in the room by 11. I didn’t even start writing until then since it took so long to find somewhere to go, and I had to make two trips to gather all my notes…once back to the room, and one from dinner that I had my mom stick in her purse. When I got to her in the casino, she was arguing with the staff about a $1000 slot payout they weren’t going to give her because of a machine malfunction, so I gained a little buffer time staying with her then to work that out (she ended up just getting $100, which still isn’t bad).

Woke up in Cabo and had to reboot my computer to get the GPS stuff working again, but then I actually started getting a fix. YAY! No time to celebrate, though, because today is the first day to see something besides what’s on this ship. After being ferried ashore by a little boat, I quickly realized I might as well have been in Tijuana…typical shitty tourist trap. Blocks full of bars and people on the street haggling you to buy a necklace (“For you, almost free!”) every ten feet. And even though the shops sold all the same crap, Mom and I decided to browse through anyway.

The sun was fairly bright, and I was just slightly sweltering in my regulation black pants and jacket. I tried on a random hat off a table and asked the guy if he had a mirror. He dug around and found one, and I swear this hat was the most perfect hat ever. We united spirits in such a way as previously believed to be impossible between a human and a haberdash. The guy said the hat was $10, which was a completely fair price to pay for my hat equivalent of a soulmate. I handed the guy my credit card, but he frowned and said he only takes cash. I didn’t have a slip of paper money on me, so I decided to let it go. It’s just a hat, I thought. And besides, I never wear them anyway. I went on to buy a little black dress with yellow flowers and some fancy vanilla for Dan from some of the other vendors (one of which, I should note, also didn’t accept cards. But he had a friend who would charge it for a few extra bucks).

Today was really less exciting as yesterday, unless you call “lounging on the sun deck with a martini watching the wake of the ship all afternoon” exciting.

I still have no idea if I’m pulling any valuable GPS data. I’m recording whatever I’m getting, but there are still gaps in even that. There’s only ONE electrical outlet in the whole room, so twice now I’ve forgotten to plug my laptop back in after doing my hair and the battery has ended up dead for several hours. And once I came back to find that Dave’s GPS uploading app had frozen up…but in his defense, another GPS utility I’m using was acting strangely, too (a reboot fixed everything). I unfortunately just don’t have time to be constantly troubleshooting my setup. Important lounging to be done and all that.

Tonight was the Captain’s Party where everyone gets all dressed up. I bought a long wrap in one of the shops to go with my dress, but I quickly learned it is impossible to carry a camera and clutch and try to manage one of those things. I eventually figured out that it’s much easier for me to just throw the wrap over my shoulder instead of draped over my arms, but at least I was able to get it right for the photos.

 

After the Captain’s Party and dinner (lobster, and to be honest an uneventful lobster at that), we were headed back to our room to freshen up a bit when mom saw a club that she wanted to check out. I like to dance, but I really shouldn’t do it in heels (else I’ll screw up the nerves in my feet even more to the point where I’d need surgery one day). Well…a couple songs won’t hurt, I thought. So I danced a bit, but the numbness in my toes quickly put me in my place and I had to sit down. Mom didn’t want me to sit alone, so she sat down with me and we were just watching people party like they’re 1000 miles away from home.

Cute girl in a cocktail dress sitting in a club with her mom…Maybe I left myself ripe for the picking? The first boy who came up was actually trying to get both of us to dance, but my mom said I didn’t want to because my feet hurt. Which…was true, but dammit, I wish she wouldn’t have said that. But this insistent little fucker kept trying to get us up and completely ignoring my constant “I can’t, but thank you” until I finally made up an excuse of having a medical condition and I promised I really, really couldn’t. Dammit, I guess it’s not even really made up, but I wish I didn’t have to go that far to get him to quit pestering us. He was really nice about it, though. And apparently he didn’t let it phase him, because 5 minutes later he was all over some skinny blonde girl on the dance floor.

Anyway, a few minutes later one of his friends comes and has a go at actually trying to chat me up a bit. I had been taking a few pictures of people dancing, and he came and sat next to me and mentioned he had the exact same camera.

“Oh really? You have a D80?” I was rather bored, so he definitely had my attention.

“No, it’s a D70.”

Hmm, the previous model. That’s ok, I suppose…beggars can’t be choosers. Until he continued…

“Hey, did you know you have to format your camera?”

Wait, what? Blank stare.

“Yeah, you have to format it or the memory gets corrupted or something.”

I continued to stare at him with obvious incredulousness, wondering if he was trying to see how gullible I was and erase all my pictures to get me back for not dancing with his friend, or if he was just plain ignorant.

Crap, how should I respond?

“I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp on my camera.” Cue snotty grin. I’m apparently good at those, because he stammered for a second and bid me a good night. I threw a thank you back at him as he walked away.

I felt really out of place being in the club after that. I mean, I was bitchy to him, but I think I did a lot better than the other reply I was considering which was “you’re full of shit”. I was tired and ready to head back to our stateroom anyway, so I guess it was no big loss.

Tomorrow starts with an early breakfast in bed before exploring Cabo San Lucas. We tried to buy a shore excursion to see “Cabo by Land and Sea”, but it was sold out before we even had a chance to ask about it. We’ve pre-ordered room service so we don’t have to get around just to eat breakfast, and I guess after that we’ll be playing it by ear.

I really wish I could get out tonight with my tripod after most people have gone to bed so I can get some extended exposure shots of one of the restaurants and the atrium that I haven’t been able to get without camera shake, but mom’s griping at me to go to bed like she used to when I still lived at home.

Ed. note: The next several entries I’ll be posting were actually from my cruise journal from last week.

June 16, 2007 @ 10:26 PM
Ok, so…first night at sea. My initial impression is that all people do on cruises is eat and play bingo. None of the events scheduled really interest me, but laying on the deck with the cool ocean breeze is divine, so I’m ok with that. The evening shows were highly recommended by some of my co-workers, but considering that the last show for the day starts in four minutes and my mother and I are snuggly curled in bed, I’ll have to take Scott’s word for it for now.

Speaking of snuggly curled in bed (kindofish), my mother made it in this morning with plenty of time to spare, but she boldly decided to sleep in the terminal in Houston instead of getting a room. She hung out with another woman who was in a similar situation, and said woman coerced Continental to give her a stack of pillows and blankets, so I’d say that my mother lucked out considering the situation.

Tangent…this side of my blog is weird. I’m so unused to actually fleshing out thoughts instead of condensing them into 140 characters via twitter. I think I’m much better at the latter, but I’ll bravely forge through blogging about the rest of the day anyway.

The actual process of getting on the ship was uneventful, although quite different than I expected (based on movies and whatnot). There wasn’t a crowd of people bidding us bon voyage from the dock, and nobody on the boat was waving scarves and blowing kisses. (for the record, I think we were all trying to find the buffet). One think I did find interesting though is that there’s some crazy law that states everyone has to go through a life vest drill before the ship can disembark. This involves the pleasant British cruise director coming over the intercom (there’s an intercom in all rooms and public areas) and announcing that when the siren sounds, we’ve all gotta grab our life vests and gather in one of the 5 lounges to verify that we were all successfully able to grab our life vests. Life vests are itchy and make me quite claustrophobic and I hope I never have to use one (aside from the obvious reasons), but the photos I got of herds of people looking like they’ve been told to abandon ship almost makes up for the inconvenience.

So after all that got settled and we got back to the room, I pulled out my laptop and Dave’s GPS receiver and started working on getting my geotracking setup situated. I’m not able to get a GPS fix even though our room has a decently sized window, so I’m pretty disappointed. Dave’s uploader app says it was able to get a position though, so I’m going to trust it over the angrily blinking red light on the GPS device because it will help me sleep better at night. This whole geocasting plan kinda went to shit after I learned Internet access would cost .75/minute, so I’m honestly not surprised I’ve run into more problems. I’m hoping for the best, though.

Or when all else fails, you can always fudge the data. ^_^

After giving up on the GPS signal, we went to the main sundeck for a while. My mom’s just now past the point of being uncomfortable getting drunk around me, which is definitely interesting. Drunk Lisa’s mom giggles a lot and has an even worse sense of direction than usual (I swear she’d be lost on this damn boat without me), and also has a penchant for buying the $8.95 photographs that are constantly being taken of the guests. There’s a photographer for every 10 passengers, I swear.

Another tangent…my teeth grind more and in synchronization with my fingers when I type.

Nothing else has happened that I’ve found stupendously interesting. VERY relaxing, but “I laid out in the sun and had the best nap ever” doesn’t exactly make a great blog entry. I’m taking a TON of photos with the new Nikon D80 Dan got me. I’d really like to review them before tomorrow to make sure I’m not royally screwing something up, but the ship’s engines are so convincing at trying to lull me to sleep…

Last Monday morning I got in my car to drive to work same as any morning, only to discover that my car wouldn’t go in reverse. I could feel it catch, but it wouldn’t actually go anywhere. I called my regular shop and told them I would be towing it in. They called me the next day and said the transmission was shot and would have to be replaced, and quoted me $6000 to do it.

Ok, so…I admit I learned a few months ago that in 1999, BMW started using GM transmissions in the 3-series. And that they’re all crap and mine would need to be replaced soon. But spending $6k on a car that’s worth $10,000 max is asinine, so I did some calling around to see if I could get a better price. Dave actually helped me out a lot here, too…he was able to find a used transmission in LA for $1300 (my shop was quoting me $4500 for the factory transmission alone). They said they’d be more than happy to install whatever transmission I brought in, but there would be no warranty whatsoever. I thought about this for a few more days (we’re talking about a lot of money here, and I absolutely hate spending money), then eventually decided to call some transmission places to see what they could do for me. I found a super nice place in San Marcos who quoted me $1600-$3500 to actually fix the problem instead of replace, so I had the car towed a second time over to them.

The transmission shop inspected the car and informed me that 1999 is a split year for the 323, and the first half of the year used a 4 speed transmission, and the 1999.5 through 2000 models used a 5 speed. Their quote was for the cheaper 4 speed model. The mechanic told me he’d worked on three of these in the past year, and those costs ranged from $3600-4800…but he’d have a better idea of what it would cost me after he pulled the transmission out and saw what actually had to be replaced. I also mentioned that I’d found a Consumer Affairs website on BMW transmissions, and casually commented that I was actually surprised that there hasn’t been a class action lawsuit against BMW. Anyway, end result of this call is me sucking it up and telling him to go ahead.

Here’s where I started really getting my education. Shop called me back this morning and said he COULD fix the transmission, but neither BMW or GM will sell him all the parts he needs to do it. BMW just doesn’t offer them (only whole transmissions), and GM won’t warranty the parts if they’re to be installed on a BMW. He said he would supplement with used parts and still guarantee the work since he has no other option, and I’m ok with that. He also said he’d done some research on my concerns with the 1999 transmission from the Consumer Affairs site, and that there were no technical service bulletins from BMW on it. There was a bulletin on the 2000 “ZL” model transmission but not on mine (which he said was a 5L40-e model), so he doesn’t think there’s a widespread problem with this transmission.

At this point, however, he’s done the worst thing any manufacturer could fear that he would do…he’s given me something to research.

BMW in fact did start using the 5L40-e transmission halfway through 1999 when they changed the 323 over from the e36 to the e46 chassis. And although there is a new complaint on the Consumer Affairs page almost daily regarding failure to go in reverse, BMW has not issued a single service bulletin. This same transmission, however, was also used in the 2003 Cadillac CTS, of which there are over 30 technical service bulletins regarding the transmission. TWO of these specifically mention failure in reverse.

According to the Consumer Affairs page, BMW denies any knowledge of known problems with this transmission when asked directly. But since it’s almost impossible for mechanics to get parts to fix them, most cars are repaired using a rebuilt transmission ordered from the factory. I expect that’s a fairly significant number of transmissions being rebuilt and shipped back out. SOMEBODY at BMW is keeping track of this number.

Why will Cadillac at least admit to the problem, but BMW makes no mention of it in a vehicle that’s been on the road four years longer? I know a bulletin won’t have any effect on my now $5000 repair bill, but I thought I had done my due diligence in researching the 1999 323i, e46′s, and BMW in general before I bought the damn thing. I knew repair bills wouldn’t be cheap if something did go wrong, but I believed BMW produced one of the best performing and longest lasting automobiles provided they are maintained properly. If I’d have known the transmission in this car was both non-serviceable and prone to failure, I’d have bought a Kia.

In some respects, I feel better now that I’m armed with knowledge. It’s a lot easier for me to accept something if I at least know why I have to accept it. Acceptance is not recourse, however, so I still feel screwed over. I’m certainly not powerful enough to take on BMW about my poor little used car, but I can at least provide my research for others to use to make a more well-informed decision. Disclaimer, though…I really am a car noob. Everything I’ve posted here was either told to me by my mechanics or found on google, and is true and accurate to the best of my knowledge. I highly advise anyone doing anything really really important to do their own fact checking (and please make me aware of any errors or omissions).

Edit 7/16/07 – I’ve been contacted by Horwitz, Horwitz & Associates. I’ll update if I get any new info.

Edit 10/8/08 – New comments have been trickling in to this post regarding other failed transmissions, but I haven’t heard anything new regarding a class action suit. I did, however, submit a complaint to the NHTSA. The more complaints they receive, the more likely they will initiate an investigation. Complaints themselves can also become public record, so I highly encourage everyone who has had a transmission failure to submit a report. My favorite site to check service bulletins and complaints is mycarstats.com.

I just checked in on the Consumer Affairs page for fun, and saw this tip by Charlotte of Linton, IN:

Concerning the 5L40E Transmission made by GM and used in several BMW automobiles. There are a couple of problems that this transmission has that can be fixed with a repair to the valve body that BMW is ignoring. BMW’s service department chooses to only replace the transmission thereby making it a huge expense to fix the vehicles. Please BMW owners who have this transmission in their vehicle who are having this reverse problem, there is a company called Sonnax that makes a kit to repair the valve body to fix this problem. The kit is several hundred dollars and the valve body can be removed and worked on without having to remove the entire transmission.

I found the company’s website and a list of parts she might have been talking about, but I can’t verify this claim is valid. Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to run this by your mechanic. If anyone has any more information, please update in the comments.