Laughing at Myself, Oh I'mma Laughing at Myself
You gotta laugh at yourself, folks. Let's just cut to the chase here. On Thursday, December 14, I was an idiot.
I rose early that morning and got myself ready for work. It was still dark, cold and windy outside, so at least there wasn't any frost to scrape off the windshield with an old credit card or CD cover. I got in the car, grateful for heated seats, and made sure the radio was tuned to Bob and Sheri so I could have some laughs on my 26-mile commute into work.
Five seconds into driving off, I heard a horrendous noise under the hood; that rattle/roar/tapping that strikes fear into the heart of the car owner. I stopped the car, put it in park, and revved the engine just a touch. No noise. Put it in drive, headed out again, and there was the noise. No smell, no warning lights coming on. What the...? Y'all probably know what kind of words were coming out of my mouth at this point. I think I made up a few. God was probably staring down at me in vast disappointment and perhaps marveling at my creativity.
I made it to work without incident. However, I obsessed over that noise all day long. What is that noise? How much is this going to cost me? How much is this going to cost me? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? My car is 6 years old...is this the beginning of costly repairs for my 2011 Accord, my trusty little sidekick? No! It can't be! I just got the oil changed six weeks ago! I kept going over my budget on my calculator, as if that would change the numbers. Things began to get ugly. My lower lip was trembling. My co-workers got sick of my whining and were beginning to circle my cube with torches.
I finally kicked myself in the butt and decided worrying wasn't getting it fixed, and called the same guys close to home who had inspected my car and changed the oil only six weeks before. Good Google reviews, good local reputation. They're also kind of young and cute and very well-groomed, so that was a plus. If I was gonna be given a a crushing blow of an estimate for repairs, at least it wouldn't come from a shifty-eyed mechanic with Skoal under his lip. Anyhow, I gave The Well-Groomed Mechanics a call, told them what was going on, and was told to run it by that afternoon and someone would take it out for a quick spin.
The noise only intensified on my way back up I-85, including a loud crack when I came to a stop at a light. You know that feeling when your blood pressure goes shooting up? A rush to the head? Yeah, that one. Is an axle breaking? Did that pothole those cheap trailer park owners are too chintzy to fix do some damage? I'll sue! Do I need to stay in the right lane just in case? Sigh.
I made it to the shop without having a catastrophic incident on the interstate, and eased into the parking lot. Went inside, told them who I was, and was told to hang tight. "John'll be back in just a minute, and he'll take it out and drive it."
Sure enough, John was back within a minute and asked for my keys. "I'm going to take it right down the road and back." I gave him my keys with a trembling hand and watched as he went outside, got in the car, drove it maybe three feet, backed it up and drove it only halfway into the bay. One minute later he backed it out and parked it. Why did he have a half-smile on his face, as if he were amused? He went into the bay and came back out with a small but significant-sized tree branch and came into the shop. "Here's what happened, ma'am. This got caught under your car and was hitting your exhaust manifold. I knew what it was the second I heard it." At this point the other owner had come in and was having himself a huge chuckle. I was covering my face with my hands, but oh, my relief was huge, so the blush was worth it.
I asked what I owed them. "No charge. Just bring us something for Christmas!" They were promised a tin of fudge, which I intend to deliver Monday afternoon; a mix of chocolate and cookies and cream. I could have hugged them. Maybe I reminded them of their mamas.
They get all of my business from now on.
I should have asked for the branch. I would have strung lights on that sucker as a reminder not to worry so freaking much. At least I didn't make it on to Bob and Sheri's Morons in the News.
I rose early that morning and got myself ready for work. It was still dark, cold and windy outside, so at least there wasn't any frost to scrape off the windshield with an old credit card or CD cover. I got in the car, grateful for heated seats, and made sure the radio was tuned to Bob and Sheri so I could have some laughs on my 26-mile commute into work.
Five seconds into driving off, I heard a horrendous noise under the hood; that rattle/roar/tapping that strikes fear into the heart of the car owner. I stopped the car, put it in park, and revved the engine just a touch. No noise. Put it in drive, headed out again, and there was the noise. No smell, no warning lights coming on. What the...? Y'all probably know what kind of words were coming out of my mouth at this point. I think I made up a few. God was probably staring down at me in vast disappointment and perhaps marveling at my creativity.
I made it to work without incident. However, I obsessed over that noise all day long. What is that noise? How much is this going to cost me? How much is this going to cost me? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST ME? My car is 6 years old...is this the beginning of costly repairs for my 2011 Accord, my trusty little sidekick? No! It can't be! I just got the oil changed six weeks ago! I kept going over my budget on my calculator, as if that would change the numbers. Things began to get ugly. My lower lip was trembling. My co-workers got sick of my whining and were beginning to circle my cube with torches.
I finally kicked myself in the butt and decided worrying wasn't getting it fixed, and called the same guys close to home who had inspected my car and changed the oil only six weeks before. Good Google reviews, good local reputation. They're also kind of young and cute and very well-groomed, so that was a plus. If I was gonna be given a a crushing blow of an estimate for repairs, at least it wouldn't come from a shifty-eyed mechanic with Skoal under his lip. Anyhow, I gave The Well-Groomed Mechanics a call, told them what was going on, and was told to run it by that afternoon and someone would take it out for a quick spin.
The noise only intensified on my way back up I-85, including a loud crack when I came to a stop at a light. You know that feeling when your blood pressure goes shooting up? A rush to the head? Yeah, that one. Is an axle breaking? Did that pothole those cheap trailer park owners are too chintzy to fix do some damage? I'll sue! Do I need to stay in the right lane just in case? Sigh.
I made it to the shop without having a catastrophic incident on the interstate, and eased into the parking lot. Went inside, told them who I was, and was told to hang tight. "John'll be back in just a minute, and he'll take it out and drive it."
Sure enough, John was back within a minute and asked for my keys. "I'm going to take it right down the road and back." I gave him my keys with a trembling hand and watched as he went outside, got in the car, drove it maybe three feet, backed it up and drove it only halfway into the bay. One minute later he backed it out and parked it. Why did he have a half-smile on his face, as if he were amused? He went into the bay and came back out with a small but significant-sized tree branch and came into the shop. "Here's what happened, ma'am. This got caught under your car and was hitting your exhaust manifold. I knew what it was the second I heard it." At this point the other owner had come in and was having himself a huge chuckle. I was covering my face with my hands, but oh, my relief was huge, so the blush was worth it.
I asked what I owed them. "No charge. Just bring us something for Christmas!" They were promised a tin of fudge, which I intend to deliver Monday afternoon; a mix of chocolate and cookies and cream. I could have hugged them. Maybe I reminded them of their mamas.
They get all of my business from now on.
I should have asked for the branch. I would have strung lights on that sucker as a reminder not to worry so freaking much. At least I didn't make it on to Bob and Sheri's Morons in the News.
So funny! Love to read your stories!
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