You know, it's funny that I should have re-discovered this blog today, the very day something somewhat interesting happens in my life. So I'm going to write it down, and post it, since I'm no good at keeping a hand-written journal anyway.
I blame this, of course, on my parents. Really everything goes back to them and their terrible communication skills. All because my dad had a senior moment and told my uncle that my area code was 614. Thus, he could not communicate with me. Thus I was waiting for his call until eight. Thus I had not eaten in seven hours. And when I'm hungry, ohhh, am I ever hungry.
At 8:15 Susan finally informs me that Uncle Dale will not be calling me tonight because he is with a client. Thus my hopes for real food were diminished. Deciding to, "screw that," I IMed dear Joseph and asked him if he wanted to hit up Panera with me. He agreed to get a pastry while I planned an epic nom on some Mediterranean Veggies (which I eventually forgot to have them hold the feta on, just to make things 7% better) and possibly a cinnamon scone. I recalled from last night that the gas light had gone on, and it would probably be ideal to fill the tank prior to actually going anywhere.
On my way down charming Northwood Avenue, I saw a kid standing outside. I owe that kid so much, and I was never thankful. I thought he was a crazy at first. But anyway after I drove past him, he sort of started waving his arms at me. I thought at first it was in response to the look I gave him, which is the look I always give people I'm driving past, a look of vague curiosity. He was wearing a sweatband, so that probably increased the intensity of my glance. I figured he was being a jerk. Then he started running after my car and I thought he was crazy. Then it occured to me that I have a lack of faith in the human race, and what would a
normal person run after a car for? Oh, yes, because the lights are out. That actually seemed logical, it's happened before. So I went to Shell and then I called Joey and asked him to check the lights before going anywhere. He confirmed that the taillight bulb had burned out, so I told him we would stop at an auto parts store on the way, and we'd go to the Panera up in Clintonville.
We stopped at Advanced Auto Parts along the way. I explained my dillema to the woman at the store, and she rang me up for a $4.50 set of two light bulbs, just like the ones we had to replace forever ago. We tried to put them in in the parking lot, but a gay man and a straight girl aren't really the best two candidates for car maintenence. I called my mom to see if she remembered how to do this, but as Joey pointed out, parents are helpful when you're little, but not so much when you're grown up. So Joey, being of practical mind (can we all just recall for a second that I have yet to eat anything since about 1 o'clock?) looks in the maintenence guide and finds that there is some sort of twist and snapping option we hadn't tried. In the parking lot of Panera we managed to take out the bulbs... only to find that whatever bulb was out was NOT the one we actually needed. I must have requested the wrong one, as if
I'm supposed to know what kind of identification one gives light bulbs. Christ, they're lucky I can figure out the difference between a taillight and a breaklight. Which, by the way, I can't.
Well as long as we were at Panera, I needed food. I needed epic noms. I decided, as it was 8:45 or so, that we would get it to go, and hope that the place would be open still on the way back. We orded food (in my case, basically a shmorgasboard) and then got back in the car. As I was driving, and we were talking, it occured to me that my car sounded funny. At first I dismissed it, as I usually have music on, at an alarming volume, and so I rarely actually listen to the sound my car makes. Then I notice it's sort of a whirring noise, which makes me worry it's the engine, because the engine has parts that possibly make whirring sounds. I know this because in 6th grade physices Mr. Koenig made us learn about engines and combustion and hydrolics but I was a girl and I did not really care, all I did was look at the pictures. Pistons make whirring sounds, right? Anyway, this was all moot because what was really going through my mind was, "is this car going to explode? Am I going to blow Joey and myself up in my little precious Camry, my reliable, Japanese-designed Camry?" But then the sound was getting worse, and when I braked I noticed it went away. Only when I braked though, not when I took my foot off the accelerator. That meant it wasn't the engine... Then Physics 131 popped into mind and it occured to me that when one breaks, all the weight is put in the front of the car, decelerating, and I realized it was the back of the car. And when Joe mentioned I was taller than him, and I looked over and could see the roof and not his head, it dawned on me that the back passenger tire was flat.
The sound became alarming as we pulled into the auto parts parking lot. At 9:02. So much for the light issue. And I still hadn't eaten. I pondered what to do as I tore at my sandwich. Joey offered to fix the flat, as I had a spare, but I remembered that the tools the car comes with to do so are less than satisfactory, as my neighbour had a hell of a time doing it the last time I decimated a tire. The jack is crappy and the whatchumacallit for the bolts is tiny and removing them nearly proved futile. "If we can't fix a light bulb, how do we fix a tire?" I asked. Then he asked if I had Triple A. And I was overjoyed, as, on a whim, we had bought a suscription or whatever they call it with them a few months ago. It had already come in handy for saving me about 150 dollars off my glasses, and now it was going to come in handy for an actual car purpose.
Of course I didn't have my membership card- not for a quick trip down High Street to get a damn sandwich. No, no, but they were helpful anyway. The woman on the phone was very nice. The conversation went something like this,
"Hello, welcome to Triple A, are you safe?"
"What? Oh, yeah I'm fine but my tire's all flat."
"Okay well what's your name?"
I gave her my information
"Where are you?"
I gave her the address
"Is that a residence or business?"
"It's a business."
"Can you tell me the name of the business?"
I almost died as I responded, "Advanced Auto Parts." I'm not sure if she caught the irony, but Joey and I were collapsed into peels of silent laughter, trying not to disturb her as she typed in the information.
"What is wrong with the vehicle?"
"Well, the tire is flat."
"Do you ahve a spare?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, there's one in the trunk, and I could maybe fix it, but it's really hard to do, we've had to do it before, and I'm not really sure what to do with it. I mean, yes, ideally it would replace the flat tire, but I'm not sure if I am really capabe of such a feat." (Imagine that sentence taking about five seconds total to say)
::muffled laughter:: "All right someone will be there in less than forty-five minutes."
At this point I started eating my scone. After all this, I deserved it. My poor lack of communication and phone skills...
So then a nice, greasy mechanic type pulled into the parking lot (it only took about fifteen minutes thank god) and fixed my tire up, no problem, and I went home. Of course, at one point the people from the auto store left and gave me the strangest looks. I could not tell if the woman working recognized me or not.
In conclusion I set out for a sandwich, gas, and a taillight.
I wound up sans a spare tire and with a taillight... but a taillight wasn't what I actually needed. But Joey was a good sport about all of it, and it really makes a smashing story.
I just hope that when I go back to the auto parts store tomorrow, that same woman is working, and startes at me like I'm a crazy. Because that's what I am.