My Car Must Hate Me
Let’s begin with the less than impressive start to my day. I over slept, quickly showered, and hoped that I was convincing as a grown up editor as I ran out of the house with hair pulled back into pig tails. Because nothing says, “Look out world” like pig tails.
I got to work a few minutes late and realized that I’d forgotten my handy ID badge. You know, the one that lets me in the building. So far, I’m a rock star.
Then comes a harried morning of furious editorial work. This part, I was actually good at. I’m getting more comfortable at work and I was feeling pretty tough. What can I say? I’m a bad ass when I’m wielding my red pen.
Lunch brought some errands and the catalyst moment of my day. For those who don’t live in lovely Colorado, the last few days have seen some pretty consistent bad weather. There has been rain, wind, clouds… and thunder. Lots of thunder.
It’s important that you grasp this thunder concept, ok? Thunder that was low, rumbling, and frequent. I am emphasizing this because it’s important that you understand that I am actually a bright girl. I was smart in school. I have a smart-sounding job. Please keep this all in mind as I share this next moment of earth-shattering brilliance with you.
As I was running my errands I noticed a familiar sound. The low, rumbling sound of thunder was once again accompanying my driving. Oddly enough, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. As I slowly pushed on my brake to come to a complete stop and the thunder increased until I lifted my foot, I had an inkling that something was not right. I drove on and stopped again. Again, I heard thunder.
It took several stops for me to realize that perhaps said thunder was actually my car. Yeah, it really did take that long for me to realize what was going on. Still, I’m positive. I’m optimistic. I pull my thundering beast into the Walmart parking lot and dash in for a little brake fluid. I even put it in the car there in the parking lot. For those who know me, the fact that I knew where to put the brake fluid is pretty impressive.
Unfortunately, the thundering brakes were not appeased. Instead, they just seemed to mock me with a tone of, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”
So I pulled back into my parking lot, ate my late lunch, and stewed over the future of my thundering beast. Meanwhile, there were still several hours of work to go and a looming rehearsal for which I was in no way prepared.
A few hours, and some shared coworker grumbling (what is it about grown up people that they forget that they have to turn their damn homework in on time?!), I climbed fretfully back into the beast and slowly drove to the local Midas.
One again, I’m optimistic. What’s a 45-minute wait followed by a check for $100? Not bad for my thundering baby. Naivety is only cute when you’re a kid.
Yes, I had a 45-minute wait during which they examined my car. I was walked back to the exam room and saw my baby up on stilts with her brake drums lying about the floor like a bra in a frat house. I was given a detailed explanation about the damage to the front brakes. New pads, new shoes, new hardware, and some sort of fancy-schmancy car thing to keep the brakes a bit more balanced.
Then we walked around to the back. For those of you feint of heart or those possessing weak stomachs, turn back now. I saw, directly beneath what should have been a driver’s side brake, a pile of crumbled black mess. What was left of my brake had apparently disintegrated and when they removed the drum, she just couldn’t take it and fell apart. I laughed and called it impressive. The mechanic raised a quizzical eyebrow and said that he thought that was an interesting perspective.
We made the final turn to the other back brake only to see that the drum wasn’t even off. Apparently, she was clinging to that drum with the rusted strength of a small army. Yeah, after 45 minutes, they couldn’t even get the drum off.
So then I was walked back to the compulsively neat waiting room, where I proceeded to read my script while waiting for the price information. I stood when the mechanic entered. He looked at me and said, “Miss, you’re going to want to sit down for this.”
Oh, I’m sure you can imagine the thrill that went through me at those words. We walked me line by line through the $800 bill and I made some phone calls. First, to find a way home and to rehearsal, second, to my dad to see if the $800 made sense. I’m not proud. I thought my dying brakes were thunder that just happened to kick in when I was stopping. I knew I needed some help. He spoke to the Midas guy and reluctantly agreed that yes, my car really did need all of it.
I contacted the theater people, found a ride, and then proceeded to try very hard not to break down at the brake place. It just seemed a little too girly to start bawling at the auto repair shop, you know?
So I manned up, borrowed a car, made it to rehearsal, came home, and went out for a beer.
It was one those days. Again.
Honey, did ya ever think that maybe, just maybe, it’s time for a new car? How much money have you put into that thing this year alone??
June 19th, 2009 at 10:13 pmShudder. Don’t ask that question. I’ll start to cry.
June 20th, 2009 at 2:20 am