Road trip

My car is in the shop today to have a thing hanging down repaired — a bit of black plastic trim off of which a little thing broke, which had been holding it to the metal part, causing it to hang, you know, nothing serious but sort of ruining the whole look, like a dangling false eyelash on a friend’s alcoholic mom when you are a kid, and you can’t just fix it with black duct tape because this is Austria or something. Hence I am driving Beta’s car, inflammatory bumper stickers and all. Dropped Gamma at school, got out to fix the outside mirror someone had dislocated, in the parking lot I suppose. Discovered the battery was dead upon getting  back into the car and trying to drive away. I thought I had turned off the radio and heater when I parked last night; maybe it was just the cold, but probably I forgot. I called my wife and she hurried over with jumper cables. I stood around in the falling snow for a few minutes, waiting, then sat in the car. When she arrived I hooked the cables (a first for me, in 49 years, can you believe it?) and it started right up. She suggested I bring the cables with me, which I did. Was careful to turn off everything I could find when I parked at the office. Lights, heat, radio. Also I packed a lunch today so I wouldn’t have to go out into the snow at lunch, but it lasted only 9 minutes on my desk so ehn. PS Beta don’t get excited about your mirror, it’s totally fine again.

7 responses to “Road trip

  1. Ann

    “If your name for something is ‘thingamajiggy,’ your chances of being able to fix it yourself are probably pretty slim.” Jeffrey Friedl said this.

    I say, “Good call mig; taking the car to the shop, I mean.”

  2. mig

    yeah they drilled a hole and screwed it back on and billed €40.

  3. k.

    “like a dangling false eyelash on a friend’s alcoholic mom when you are a kid”

    so awesome, this image. an entire story.

  4. Jann

    “…like a dangling false eyelash on a friend’s alcoholic mom when you are a kid,…” Actually, this made me think of Guy Noir,
    you know, “A dark night in a city that knows how to keep it’s secrets.” A generational thing?

  5. mig

    “Her midriff was as tight as the cap on a pickle jar.”
    Not generational, I don’t think, you just have to be a Prairie Home Companion listener. I had to google “Guy Noir”, no PHC here.

  6. Jann

    I have wondered for awhile, mig, if you have to be over fifty and born in the USA to appreciate PHC; that is, old enough to remember talk of the time when members of different protestant denominations didn’t socialize with each other, at least not in small towns.

  7. beta

    mirror? you’re just checking if i still read your blog, right?