Look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, No, it's "Transmission Man" .Strange visitor from another planet with auto repair abilities far beyond that of mortal men. Who, disguised as a mild mannered mechanic striving for automotive excellence, fights a never ending battle to rid the world of incompetence and deception in the auto repair industry. 

I remember it like it was yesterday. The local Chevy Dealer was sending up a vehicle for us to look at. It was a 95 S-10 Blazer with the "Check Engine" light on, and "No Codes". As I hung up the phone, my thoughts began to drift away. Whenever I think about the past, everything seems to get a little fuzzy and out of focus. I hate it when that happens. It's either a severe mental disorder, or perhaps evidence of a mis-spent youth. Regardless, I was reminiscent of a time when life was easy. Before Computer Controls, before front wheel drive and overdrive, even before lock-up converters. Those were the days. If you had a trans problem, there were chunks in the pan. Just grab a unit off the shelf and pop it in. But as the Blazer pulled into the driveway, I was rudely reminded of the fact, that was then, and this is now. 

With scan tool in hand, I made my way out to the parking lot. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. As I reached under the dash to "plug in" to the diagnostic connector, my regular GM adapter didn't seem to fit. How could this be? What kind of a warped, demented mind could do something like this? There was only one being that could be responsible for such a heinous act. That's right, the "King of Compliance", the "Demon of Diagnostics", the dreaded "Obie Deetoo". 

On a planet far far away, somewhere in the "Ford Galaxy", the evil "Obie Deetoo" laughed as he watched his fiendish plan take effect on the small blue planet below. Total Automotive Domination. It spread like a virus. First Ford, then GM, where will it end? Obie knew the humans were no match for his maniacal mind. Where was "Transmission Man" ? Did he abandon us in our hour of need? I told him the beeper wouldn't work once he left the Earth's atmosphere, but he wouldn't listen. 

In desperation, I sifted through the endless heap of wires and connectors in the bottom of my carrying case. Suddenly, there it was, the OBDII connector. I heaved a sigh of relief as the data stream came through. What's this? No Codes Present? How can that be? The "Check Engine" light has been on the whole time. Why can't I retrieve trouble codes? Everything appeared to be fine, the engine ran smooth as silk, the trans shifted fine, and the fluid was cherry red. But wait a minute, How come there are only ten parameters? Where is the shift solenoid data? What about lock-up? Damn that Obie Deetoo. Is there no end to his rein of terror? 

Meanwhile, hunkered down in a dark corner of an abandoned parts warehouse somewhere in Jersey, Transmission Man desperately tries to regain his strength and confidence. Every time he attempted to diagnose a trans problem on a vehicle equipped with OBDII, he was stopped dead in his tracks. His scan tool could only supply him with useless "generic data", or worse yet, "No Communication" at all. Powerless from the radioactive waves emitting from the dreaded OBDII system, Transmission man was reduced to nothing more than a shell of a super hero. Having lost all feeling in his legs, he lay there helpless, hopeless, paralyzed and depressed. It would seem the demented Deetoo had finally gotten the better of him. Was this the end of the trail for our Transaxle Titan? Did the Daredevil of Diagnostics deserve such a dreary demise? 

Having been entrusted with the true identity of Transmission Man, I knew I was the only one who could possibly prevent him from perishing in a puddle of polyester. If only I could contact him. But how? He hadn't checked in with his answering service in weeks. His beeper was out of range, and the idea of driving around with my head out the window screaming his name, was just plain stupid. Besides, I had less than a quarter of a tank of gas, and if I hadn't stopped yelling like that, surely I would've woke up with a sore throat. But I couldn't just give up. 

Nearly exhausted from my relentless search, I needed time to think. I needed a cup of coffee, and most of all, I needed to go to the bathroom. I was waiting at the drive through window for at least twenty minutes or so before I realized that they were closed. Just then, a cat crossed in front of my headlights, its shadow formed a silhouette on the wall across the way over twenty feet tall. Then it occurred to me. Why didn't I think of it sooner? I rented one of those huge spotlights that they sweep across the sky to attract attention at grand openings and award presentations. I fashioned a makeshift stencil out of discarded boxes from overhaul kits, and proceeded to project a distress signal that would one day be known as the "Tranny Beam". 

Just as Transmission Man felt himself slipping into oblivion, his life flashed before his eyes. He imagined himself walking toward a bright light at the end of a long dark tunnel. A blinding light in fact. Right in his eyes. Hey, wait a minute, there really was a blinding light in his eyes. Illuminating the night sky, the beam stretched up to the heavens, where it cast a shadow that strangely resembled a torqueflite. Drawn to it, he managed to muster up enough strength to crawl to the window. The pins and needles in his legs began to subside as he moved. Transmission Man wasn't paralyzed by radiation after all. It was those damn leotards. The traditional pale blue tights were cutting off his circulation. And there was much rejoicing. Transmission Man would now be able to continue his quest for automotive excellence, and help make the world once again a safe place for shifting. 

Stay tuned next time when Transmission man comes face to face with the sinister "Simon D. Solenoid" and asks the burning question, Why can't Super Heroes wear baggy pants like those guys on MTV ? Find out the answer in the next spine tingling episode of "The Adventures of Transmission Man".