Let me start with,
What had happened was…
BACKSTORY:
I sat in the car rider line, the endless one–maybe you know it too.
Bing!
I looked up at my dash and I saw something I’d never seen before. “That’s new.” I picked up my phone and called Hubby. “Hey, there’s a light on in my van.”
“Which one?”
Good question. “It looks like a toothbrush floating in the ocean.” Oh yeah. Good imagery. For sure.
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
And then I forgot, because I did what I was suppose to do. I informed the MAN of MANLY things and went back to my book.
FLASHFORWARD 2 WEEKS
I left Myles’s school and was on my way to get gas and head to the church to work.
Bing!
Crap.
I picked up the phone and called Hubby. “The toothbrush is floating in the ocean again.”
A big fat ugly sigh. “That’s not good.”
Profound.
“What do I do?”
“You can’t drive the van. You’ll blow it up!”
Ok, so we had a tad bit of an argument. I was rather unkind. Whatever, that ain’t the point. Point is…
“You have to go to Pennzoil and tell them to change your oil and check your radiator. Don’t let them do ANYTHING else.”
I hang up. Doubt I said bye.
I pulled up at the local oil place and waited for them to open.
The man behind the counter rolled his tongue to the side of his mouth to pack his chew tighter in order to speak clearly to me. Oh, dear God.
“Can I help you, Ma’am?” Ma’am? He’s older than me, for the love!
“I need an oil change and my radiator checked. That’s all.”
“Pull into Bay 2.”
Piece of cake.
The other guy sportin his do-rag and tattooed sleeves winked and signaled me forward on those ramp things. I pulled up, he motioned me closer.
My van stalled. I mean dang, it was going up hill…sort of. I gunned it.
And I drove into him. Yes, yes I did.
It was just a tap. No one got hurt. It gently pushed him back a step. One step! He even smiled, after his clouded eyes cleared. I stuck my head out the window.
“Sorry, I never do this.”
“Run over people or get your oil changed?” He chuckled.
“Get my oil changed,”I teased, thankful he wasn’t going to sue me for bumping him.
He laughed and said, “Well, I might just give you a discount since you have a pretty face.”
I looked down. No ring today. Crap.
“My husband will appreciate that.”
He smiled. “Always the married ones. We never get any single women in here.”
I find that hard to believe. Most married women have husbands who aren’t in Nashville for the day to do the MAN work. A woman in the bay next to me smiled and I followed her inside, feeling uncomfortable.
She was reading a Tamera Alexander book. Had to be an angel. “You know when you get older, you don’t have to worry about that as much,” she said.
“I hate these places. I don’t know enough about cars but I don’t care enough to find out.” I sighed and we chatted about books.
He opened the door. “Did you know your inspection sticker is expired?”
“No.”
“Is something wrong with your car?”
“Other than the light with the tooth—” I caught myself. I already felt like an idiot. “No.”
“You haven’t had one since 2007.”
Have them check your oil and radiator and nothing else!
“Inspect it.”
The reader next to me whispered, “They always want to do something more than what you tell them.”
As if he heard her, he came back inside. “Waa-waa, waa, waaa, waaa. If you’ll come outside I can show you where the waa waaa waaa waaa is.”
As I followed him out, the angel said, “I’ll pray for you.”
In the bay area, a woman stood with the tobacco man, the same look on her face as mine. Smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside.
“Yeah, see this waaa waaa waaa can be fixed. We can’t charge you, but I mean I can do it. They’re only about six bucks a piece. That’s what I’d charge you.”
My stomach knotted. A side job?
Have them change the oil and check the radiator and that’s all!
“Um…Hold on.” I pulled out my phone.
“What’s going on, Jess, I’m in a meeting?”
“This man said some of my thingys are missing and one’s broken.”
“What thingys?” I heard the impatience growing. I wanted to scream, I didn’t.
“Black rubber do-hickeys, I don’t know! This isn’t my forte, Tim!” I looked at my new iPhone cradled in its white candy shell coating and then at the filthy man before me.
Crap. “Could you talk to my husband?”
“Sure.” His smug grin made me wish I’d have bumped him a little harder.
“Waaaa Waaa Waaa Waaaa…Yeah…well, waa waaa waa waa waaa waaa.” He laughs. Leave it to my husband to say something witty and bright. “Yeah, man. It’s good. No problem.”
He handed me the phone.
I stared at it, praying my husband had nothing more to say and had hung up, and I’d have time to wipe dude’s sweat off my touchscreen before using it again.
No luck. Crap.
I placed the phone, smudged with grease and his rough morning’s work, to my ear. “Hello?”
“It’s handled.”
About fifteen minutes later, I pulled out of the lot and was home-free. Later that afternoon, when it was time to pull forward in the car rider line, I threw my van in gear and accelerated.
I went nowhere.
“That freaking, idiot! AAAAAH!” I pounded the wheel with my fist, panicked, and glanced behind me in the rearview mirror, waiting for the car behind me to honk, as if I didn’t know I needed to go.
I went to punch the hazard button on my van. I saw the dashboard.
I was in neutral.
Oh.
Question: Any crazy things happen to you lately?
Happy Weekend to ya’ll!
