Cabin air filter 2003 gmc envoy

So my car is a fixer-upper, and I know that. I just flushed the radiator and engine block and filled them with new coolant, did a complete brake fluid flush (and plan on doing the rotors, pads, drums, shoes, and hardware when the parts come), and also did an oil/filter and engine/cabin air filter change. The valve gasket is for sure leaking, and I'm also waiting on parts for that to arrive.
In the meantime though, I've got a sound coming from my engine that almost sounds like squeaking—but also like bubbles forming and popping. My dad and a friend of mine both said it sounded like a compressor (my A/C is intermittent and I have not yet gotten to work on diagnosing that) or maybe my water pump, but then after taking the oil fill cap off my car just for kicks and giggles the noise stopped.
But with that came the new discovery that there is air being pushed out of my oil fill cap, in like a pop-pop-pop-pop-pop steady rhythm of small bursts. I didn't feel oil splattering onto my hand. The oil dipstick is showing my reservoir is full. What is the problem here?
Tl;dr — My car is making a noise and the only way I can stop it is by taking the oil fill cap off, and when I do so I can feel air popping out.

If I’d only followed my instincts, I’d never have boarded that doomed ship. When the Azure Seastar left port, its passengers were all alive, each with smart phones and watches and tablets, as well as the cruise ship’s own communications… yet not a single message was sent before it went missing! No distress call.
The fates of over a thousand passengers and crew remain unknown, with only a handful recovered from a lifeboat, days after the Seastar herself vanished. But the coast guard’s only statement on the lifeboat’s recovery was that “the passengers did not survive.” Rumors circulated about a “thermos full of eyeballs” and a “passenger whose mouth was stuffed full of severed fingers”—but these details have been denounced as lies, sensationalizing and capitalizing on a tragedy.
The official cause of the Seastar’s disappearance is a rogue wave. No survivors. No witnesses.
Well… one witness…
… but perhaps I shouldn’t tell. Better for the world if that ship stay lost forever!
The families of the missing, however, deserve the truth… which is why I am posting.
But first, a warning—the gruesome snippets I recounted above barely scratch the surface of the horror I am about to share, some of which I took part in. I wake screaming every night. I sleep with the lights on. I never enter darkened hallways or stairwells. And I do not ever shake hands. Although I’ve always had some quirks (the handshake one is an old habit), most of these are fresh, a consequence of my time aboard that doomed cruise ship. I do not intend to gloss over any details, but rather to give a complete accounting, including of my own involvement… so be forewarned.
And understand that my story is one of unimaginable horror.
***
To explain what really happened aboard the Seastar, I need to first tell a little about myself. Sorry, I know I’m like a bit of decorative wallpaper—just sort of there. But I see things.
It all started when I was very young (I do promise this is relevant). I didn’t want to swim in the community pool with my brother because the water was cloudy, hiding a shadowy figure in the deep end. I distinctly remember standing at the pool’s edge, crying inconsolably while my father urged, “Go on, jump in!”
My brother set the example, diving down to the bottom of the foggy water. When he came up, a silver dollar glinted in his fingers, which he dropped back into the pool before I could snatch it. “Oops! Guess you gotta dive for it!” He laughed, the sun shimmering off his sunburned shoulders. “Come on, there’s quarters down here, too!”
Diving for coins was a game we often played, so I plunged in after him, kicking my way down with my eyes squeezed shut. When my hands grazed the rough cement bottom, I patted around.
Silky hair tangled around my fingers like seaweed.
I forced my eyes open against the stinging chlorine—and shrieked.
Wide, empty eyes stared back at me from a bloated face.
When I shot to the surface, wailing about a dead woman in the water, other swimmers looked on, perplexed. My older brother tried to console me and swore there were nothing but coins.
He was correct—not until a week later would a woman drown in that pool, and sink to the bottom of the foggy water while swimmers unwittingly raced laps above her.
***
The next time I saw was when I threw a tantrum over my grandmother’s armchair. It smelled so bad I grabbed my nose and exclaimed, “Ewwww!”
My parents scolded me for my rudeness. Grandma occasionally struggled with incontinence, so for her chair to stink was, they assumed, the result of an accident. They thought I was exaggerating to make fun of her, but in the sweltering summer, the smell was truly unbearable—like rotting meat and diarrhea and cheap perfume all churned together. I threw such a fit we left, though Grandma insisted on hugging me despite my being an “awful brat.” Her skin was wrinkled, papery-thin and soft as silk, but despite the uncomfortable warmth of her apartment, her embrace was ice cold.
Less than a week later the call came. My grandmother had been found after a neighbor’s complaint about the smell…
She’d died in her chair.
***
But when the seeing really clicked was in my tween years, two separate incidents. The first was after a classmate of my brother’s pulled up in a car reeking of burnt meat, the interior charred and black. He stepped out of the car seeming not to notice that behind him, another version of him remained belted into the front seat, unrecognizable through the char beyond the glint of a gold chain melted into his neck. I burst into hysterical tears and screamed at my brother not to let him drive. The classmate laughed and called me a weirdo.
He crashed later that week.
The second incident began at a school function, where my brother chaperoned me. A man pulled up in the school drop-off zone—he was one of the more popular teachers, famous for his yearly pizza parties. In the car with him were two young kids. I can’t remember their names, just that the littlest boy was giggling and clinging to a toy T-rex when he hopped out. My brother and I were asked to help carry the party supplies and drinks from the teacher’s car. But the moment I opened the passenger door to grab a box, the reek of fetid pond water made my stomach lurch. I staggered back, clapping a hand to my nose and mouth.
“Hey! Everything all right?” the teacher asked.
My brother, no doubt remembering what happened to his classmate weeks earlier, took me aside.
“C-c-c-c-cold!” I burst to him. “D-dark! The smell! Like the rot in the bottom of a lake…”
While I wrung my hands and sniffled, my brother watched the two young kids follow the teacher into the school. He shook my shoulder and said, “Hey—hey, we’re going to save them.”
“How? No one ever believes me!”
“I believe you, Hope. Hey…” He gave me a squeeze and looked in my eyes. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers…”
What a dork. That line was from Emily Dickinson—my brother’s favorite quote for me for when I was upset. It was corny, but encouraged me.
A few minutes later, we were careening along backwoods roads in the teacher’s car. To this day, I don’t know how my brother got the keys. His plan was we’d stow the car in a garage for a couple weeks, long enough to outlast the vision, since my predictions always came true within about six days. But it hadn’t occurred to either of us how being inside the car would affect me. The damp and rot washed over my skin. COLD. Every hair on my body stood erect, floating as if underwater. I couldn’t breathe… gagging on the fetid water, I rolled down my window. Raindrops from outside pelted my face, and something… something clicked. A sudden terrible question. When I’d peered into the darkened interior, I hadn’t been able to see… who was inside the car?
“Hey,” my brother said, apparently struck by the same thought. “You’re not foreseeing our deaths, are you?”
I don’t know if it was fate that caused us to fishtail just as he spoke. But also he might have hit something, because there was a bump. All I know is suddenly we were flying, off the road and over the side toward a lake, and then plunging, and I snatched for his hand as the impact slammed us forward into the dashboard. Then the water wasn’t just in my mind. It was real. It was pouring in through the car window.
I fought, flailing. Unbuckled. Floundered through the half-open window. Luckily I was still small enough to get through, swimming up and breaking the surface.
“Cory!” I screamed. “CORY!!!”
But I knew already that my brother wasn’t coming up—his hand had been cold when I’d touched it.
***
Naturally, his death feels like my fault. Oh, in kinder moments I remember that I was a child, and try to forgive myself for letting him get behind that wheel. But for a time, I was driven by the fierce need to atone. I sought desperately to save even one life… ANY life. I’d see a body swaying from a beam in a construction site. Legs dangling from a trunk in the car on the highway ahead of me. A suitcase on sale in a luggage store, dripping blood. Every time I tried to prevent the death… only to fail or worse, cause it. Each loss drove home more deeply my shame, my failure… until eventually…
I gave up.
I don’t try to prevent the deaths anymore. These days I catch a whiff of that familiar sickly putrid scent, and I leave. I avoid human touch, especially handshakes.
I’ve truly become wallpaper. Able to see. Powerless to prevent.
My name, incidentally, is Cassandra… I changed it because I could no longer bear my birth name. If “Hope” is the thing with feathers, I was an angel of death, harbinger of doom to my brother and others. So instead I call myself after the Greek priestess doomed to foresee the future but never to be believed… unable to prevent even one single tragedy.
***
But let’s get back to the cruise. The missing passengers. The eyeballs in the thermos—oh, those grisly details! Mind you, once you know you can’t un-know, no matter how much you drink, or smoke, or however you drown your despair. Speaking of drowning, a month ago today, I hit the big 4-O. I celebrated my four decades of life by doing the one thing I’ve done consistently since I was old enough—drinking away my failures. Every icy grip. Every unheeded warning. And especially the times I’ve well and truly fucked up. Oh yes. Those are the ones that call for some hard forgetting.
I was on my second or seventh drink at my favorite bar when a voice exclaimed, “’Evening, friend!”
A woman with shimmering purple eyeliner and matching purple hair approached. It was the musician who often played there, Lily Tsuki. To be honest, she was the primary reason I frequented that bar, though we’d hardly spoken beyond my occasional compliments about her playing. She slid into the seat next to mine and clinked my glass.
“Roy at the bar told me it’s your fortieth. I see you in here once a week, always tipping well and drinking like you’re trying to drown yourself. Someone did something kind for me recently, so I’m trying to pass it on…” She fished a hand into her pocket, and to my surprise produced a gift card for a cruise. I didn’t catch all of her story in the noisy bar, but apparently, one of her admirers was very rich, always offering her gifts verging on inappropriate. After finding out she’d be playing on the Azure Seastar, said admirer sent her the card so she could spoil herself on the cruise. She didn’t feel comfortable accepting, so she gifted it to me. “… There’s enough on there to cover your fare. Don’t thank me—thank you, I needed to get rid of it. Enjoy your fortieth, friend!”
As she handed me the card, her fingers brushed mine.
Warm. Alive.
I mumbled my thanks, cheeks warm. Why? Because she chose me? Blushes! I’m an idiot.
Still, I was glowing, and not just because I was tipsy. Why not? I thought. Why not treat myself, this once? The Azure Seastar… it sounded like a dream. I’d go see Lily Tsuki play at the piano bar against the backdrop of a glimmering ocean. I’d drink under the stars. Get a tan. Get my sea legs! And every hand would be warm and every breath would taste of the summer breeze!
***
Nine decks (eleven including the crew-only levels). Over a thousand people. Pool, bars, restaurants, lounges, cafés, spa, cabaret—the Seastar truly was the Ritz Carlton on the water! I was absolutely giddy! Of course before the luxury came the wait—just like the airport, parking, luggage, ticketing, security. It was as I neared the entrance for ticketing, enjoying the summer breeze, that I caught traces of a sour odor… a whiff of decay… so faint beneath the car exhaust and the smell of the saltwater that I might have missed it, were I not so attuned to death. At port, it was likely some unfortunate animal packed into a shipping crate and decomposing. I’d even read horror stories of people, trafficked in sealed shipping containers and asphyxiating. That faint whiff made my insides curdle.
Then I was inside the air conditioned terminal, packed with passengers—and inhaling nothing but the blessed AC.
The check in was surprisingly quick. I followed the embarkation signs up the escalator to the terminal’s upper level, through the double glass doors, greeted on my right by printed images of pool decks and steaks and wine glasses. On my left, through the enormous paned wall of glass, the Seastar herself loomed. My God, she was enormous!
So many decks! So many balconies!
Then I squinted a little closer. What was that speck? A tiny figure, draped on a railing?
My heart dropped to my toes.
Something was horribly wrong.
The figure, small against the massive width of the ship… had no face. Only a torso and most of its arms. It had been decapitated, and dried blood spattered the rail.
My footsteps slowed. I pressed against the glass, eyes rapidly roving the rest of the ship. Was it just one…? One incidence of violence, or…
Perhaps I wasn’t seeing correctly. It was a stunt. A practical joke. A mannequin. I needed to get closer. I hurried along the terminal, joining the line out to the gangplank.
The bowl of the sky had turned deep purple, the sun lowering toward the horizon, and in the Seastar’s deep shadow, the temperature dropped. A sudden chill gripped me as I trotted out onto the gangplank. I sniffed. Sniffed again, more deeply.
Rot.
The same putrid odor I’d caught outside. A passenger ahead of me noticed me grabbing my nose, and remarked, “Not used to that ocean smell?” I did not respond, because now that I was close enough to see the ship more clearly, I noticed… cracked glass… broken panes in the sliding glass doors of the cabins… no! I gasped, sinking to my knees, and the passenger kindly leaned to help me up. As her hand seized mine—it was cold.
I jerked back so fast I actually collapsed into the passengers behind us—a mother and her daughter.
“Oh!” exclaimed the mother.
My hand brushed the daughter’s bare arm. Cold.
“Are you okay?” asked the daughter, a child of about twelve.
I crawled back from her, and another person, an elderly gentleman, leaned down to help me up, his hand on my elbow. Cold!
“Miss?” he asked. “Miss—” But I bolted, barely hearing their cries as I launched myself back toward the terminal. No no no no no no no no—my eyes watered and my belly bunched into knots and my heart lurched into my throat and oh God oh God—the ship! The whole. Entire. Ship. It was… dark… windows broken… Not a single light shining in the interior, and spatters of blood here and there visible on its decks and balconies… But worst of all was the smell. I hadn’t even entered the ship yet and already I knew, knew, in the way only I can know, that the smell wasn’t just one body or two. Not if I could detect it all the way out on the gangplank. All the way at the entrance to the terminal. For the whiff of putrefaction to have spread so far, the source was something massive. A colossal pile of decomposing bodies like a herd of dead elephants.
That ship… no one on that ship was going to make it back…
As I entered the terminal with its blessed filtered air and the windows between me and the ship, I turned and looked at the line stretching behind me. Passengers laughing. Chatting. Dressed in their finest. Flirting. Teasing. Buzzing with excitement. Old and young couples. Children.
Everyone on this ship is going to die…
... and I’m the only one who knows…

2003 GMC Sonoma 4.3 crew cab SLS running lean, sounds like air being sucked in, sort of lags on acceleration and when it does go feels it lags.
Recently had heads rebuilt due to bent valve n got new y pipe w new cats from rockauto. Sprayed curb cleaner around intake to check for leaks n got nothing. Any advice would be appreciated.

I just bought a car and the previous owner has used some sort of air freshner that has a weird sweet smell that is giving my entire family a bad ass headache.
I've put a new cabin filter in, i've let it air out. I've whiped down the interior with miguire cleaner and used miguire carpet cleaner. Still hasn't gotten the smell out. I then used a carpet shampooer on the carpet again and it still hasn't fully got the smell out.
Any other ideas on how to get this smell out? I've cleaned every nook and cranny on this car and can't get the smell it. It's a 2016 and there's no stains or sign of any spills that would source the smell.

I know some will think this is overkill, but I really want this car to last as long as possible. Here are my planned service intervals:
​
Oil change- every 4k miles (LiquiMoly or Motul only)
Cabin air filter- every 10k miles
Engine air filter- every 10k miles
Manual transmission fluid change- every 30k miles
Differential fluid change- every 30k miles
Spark plugs- every 40k miles
Brake fluid/power steering fluid/tires- as needed
​
Will try to avoid taking the car to the dealer at all costs since I don't trust them even for an oil change. If someone catastrophic happens such as engine/transmission failure I will go to a reputable mechanic who specializes in German vehicles.
​
Some other notes- I only fill up with 91 at Chevron or Shell. Did an oil change after the 1000 mile break in period. When I start the car I let it idle below 1k rpm before driving. Will also idle for a couple minutes after hard driving to help prevent turbo overheating. Is there anything else I should keep in mind?

Hi my ac wasn’t blowing too cold it just diminished over time, it hadn’t been topped off since I bought it. I changed the cabin air filter because it was super dirty. I had someone put Freon into my vehicle and now it’s blowing hot air, any advice tips? Or what I can do to fix it or what it might be maybe I’m exaggerating?

2023 rx 350 hybrid. Dealer says he will cut me a smoking deal for $2,500 to get 5 years of all service. I looked up the maintenance schedule and it says every 10k/1yr an oil change+cabin air filter, 1.5yr replace the batteries in your keys, and everything else is inspect inspect inspect…. It sounds like a rip off from what I see, but I had to ask. I have an independent shop we have been using for years that is Toyota/lexus/Hyundai/etc and they always had very fair pricing for work actually performed.
Thanks!

Hello I have a 2010 TSX with 243k miles that I’ve owned since 2013 when I bought it certified pre owned with 30k miles. The only maintenance I’ve had to do for it has been brakes and oil changes so far. After doing a little research on here I decided to change the cabin air and engine filters last year which were extremely dirty as you could imagine. That alone improved my mpg from 23 to 26.
Next I’m going to do the spark plugs since I seem to be way over due for those, my question for you guys is there anything else I should be doing? I feel pretty lucky I haven’t had any issues with the car yet and I want to try to be pro active to hopefully have it last another 100k miles. Thanks

Hello I have a 2010 TSX with 243k miles that I’ve owned since 2013 when I bought it certified pre owned with 30k miles. The only maintenance I’ve had to do for it has been brakes and oil changes so far. After doing a little research on here I decided to change the cabin air and engine filters last year which were extremely dirty as you could imagine. That alone improved my mpg from 23 to 26.
Next I’m going to do the spark plugs since I seem to be way over due for those, my question for you guys is there anything else I should be doing? I feel pretty lucky I haven’t had any issues with the car yet and I want to try to be pro active to hopefully have it last another 100k miles. Thanks

Hi all,
Can someone tell me if the EV uses the same size as the regular version? For some reason when I enter the EV as a body style, I can’t find a “standard” size on the usual sites.
Thanks!!

Hi,
Bought a 2021 CX-5 with a prepaid maintenance plan for 3 years in 2021.
Went in on my 4th maintenance now, and for the second time my dealership is charging me for services not included in the plan. First was about $100 for a cabin air filter, today was $229 (AFTER discount) for a brake fluid flush. They even recommended a tire alignment service for $139 today, also not included.
When I was sold the prepaid maintenance, I was told the only service I'd owe on would be tires. I can't help but feel scammed by my dealer, but not sure if that's accurate or if I'm misunderstanding prepaid maintenance plans.

im at 18k and never got this service from the dealer, it seems it covers an oil change, engine and cabin filter replacement, clutch and brake inspection and wheel rotation. I rotate my wheels every 10k and i changed my engine and air filter by myself at 15k. Oil changes around every 3.5k.
No complaints from braking or using the clutch, i tend to not slam gears or my brakes so I imagine i dont need that inspected… is it a gimmick or am i an idiot for missing it? it’s 500 dollars lol and feel I did what was important anyways.

Hey detailers, I thought this the best place to ask for advice.
I recently got a new (used) truck that has a slight smell of spew inside. The car was detailed by the dealership so it's spotless inside and out, the carpets are SUPER clean, and no stains on the seats. But when turning on the AC it smells pretty funky. What's the best way to problem solve this? I have put a few trays of baking soda in the car overnight in the hope it would absorb any smells, but I'm thinking now it's in the vents. Do I replace the cabin air filter also? Any and all advice is welcome. Thank you!

Pretty clean all around, new tires, brakes, battery, oil change, air filter and cabin air filter per the description. I offered $5400 after checking it’s value on KBB. Seller countered at $5700. Worth it? I’m going to look at it this weekend. The Toyota tax is real.