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An Illustrated Guide to the Experience of Automobile Repair

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12

Or: My Car Has Been in the Shop for a Week and I Am Not Coping Well

A week ago, my car stopped working*, rather abruptly and without much warning.*** It happily turned on, and happily changed gears, and happily refused to go any faster than two miles an hour.
* Was attacked by invisible space pirates and stolen from me by a tow truck.**
** This is what I tell people when they ask me what happened to my car. People should probably stop asking me what happened to my car.
*** Except for that terrible sound that it kept making that I was ignoring.

My car is very happy about being a non-working jerk.

My car is very happy about being a non-working jerk.

So I called the automobile club, which is the club they let you pay to be in when you happen to have purchased a car. The automobile club, which calls itself AAA****, reluctantly agreed to tow my car exactly four miles before they would charge me a very silly amount of money per mile. I let them tow my car precisely three-point-seven-five miles and then called my car insurance people and had it towed (for free) seven more miles to the repair shop.
**** If adult entertainment is abbreviated as “XXX”, does “AAA” mean that I’m engaging in some form of wholesome adult automobile-related activities? This is today’s awkward thought.

This is not their real logo. In fact, for legal reasons, I'm probably talking about an imaginary company.

This is not their real logo. In fact, for legal reasons, I’m probably talking about an imaginary company.

The first day was pretty rough.

There was much worrying and wringing of hands.

There was much worrying and wringing of hands.

But then things started looking up.

And by "up," I mean the dealership paid for a rental car for me because they were all out of loaners.

And by “up,” I mean the dealership paid for a rental car for me because they were all out of loaners.

Then overwhelming feelings of guilt…overwhelmed me.*****
***** They overwhelmed my vocabulary.

The keys felt like betrayal in my hand...

The keys felt like betrayal in my hand…

But then the joys of an unfamiliar fancy car won me over.

Clearly my car love is a fickle, fickle thing. Mostly because I only have an AUX plug in in my car.

Clearly my car love is a fickle, fickle thing. Mostly because I only have an AUX plug in in my car.

But even fancy technology and a super-charged air conditioner****** couldn’t fill the dark void in my heart left by the absence of my beloved car.
****** It’s the South. It’s already hot. Also I really love air conditioning. Captain Planet is not proud of me.

My face is not leaking, But my eyes are. Traitors.

My face is not leaking, But my eyes are. Traitors.

Sorrow leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to writing angry letters to your car repair shop, and never delivering them.

It's like the opposite of a ransom note. It's an "I hate you and I'll give you anything you want" note.

It’s like the opposite of a ransom note. It’s an “I hate you and I’ll give you anything you want” note.

And finally, imaginary-letter-writing leads to a call from the car repair shop telling you that your car is probably ready to be picked up.*******
******* Yes. Obviously the first thing leads to the second thing. Don’t your imaginarily-written-letters make things happen?

This is the car repair guy I have been dealing with. Let's call him Jim. Jim is really not sure how to deal with me.

This is the car repair guy I have been dealing with. Let’s call him Jim.
Jim is really not sure how to deal with me.

My heart filled with joy. It grew to three times its regular size********
******** Like the Grinch, but lots less green and fuzzy, and probably more medically concerning.

But then I got to the repair shop, and they tried to keep my car again.

THAT'S NOT A REAL THING, JIM.

THAT’S NOT A REAL THING, JIM.

Really, this is the story of why I’m never taking my car to a mechanic ever again.

It Does Not Matter How Fancy I Dress in the Morning

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19

I will not make it to work in the same condition.

For the first time in my life, my place of employment is now in a proper downtown area.* This is a new development – today was my very first day working downtown.
*We’ve spoken before about how I totally live in a real city, with big tall buildings and things. We call our downtown “uptown,” because in the South, we like to confuse outsiders.

Which means I spent extra time this morning dressing up all slick and business-y. You know, so I could fit in with all the other highly professional and snappily dressed adults.

See? There’re business heels and a business coat, and even business hair. I’ve got this “professional” thing down.

See? There’re business heels and a business coat, and even business hair. I’ve got this “professional” thing down.

But little did I know that the universe was conspiring against me. I’d made resolutions to eat healthy foods and avoid the costly temptations of a downtown diet. I’d packed salad in my bag for lunch, and yogurt for breakfast. Clearly, I was prepared for the onslaught of very-cool-things that metropolitan areas can offer.

Nope. No one is prepared to resist cookie smells.

Nope. No one is prepared to resist cookie smells.

It stopped me in my tracks. The sweet smells of baked treats and coffee slithered through the air like that hypnotic python in The Jungle Book.** They were calling to me.
**A source of many of my childhood nightmares,*** and therefore a perfect comparison.
***HE CAN HYPNOTIZE YOU WITH HIS SPINNING EYES!

I tried to resist them.

This is my “resisting” pose.

This is my “resisting” pose.

It was not effective.

This is my “totally not resisting” pose.

This is my “totally not resisting” pose.

Mostly because the sweet, sweet smells were leading me to my office building, y’all.

Smooshing your face up against the window glass of a fancy bakery is a very professional thing to do.

Smooshing your face up against the window glass of a fancy bakery is a very professional thing to do.

And so I went to my first meeting with a bag full of cookies and an extra-giant soy cappuccino.

Best. Meeting. Ever.

Best. Meeting. Ever.

Looking substantially less business-important than I did 20 minutes before that.

I’m taking this as a sign that the universe probably wants me to go completely broke, and live entirely on sugar.

This is a double-marshmallow rice krispy treat covered in CARAMEL CORN, guys, _Caramel corn._

This is a double-marshmallow rice krispy treat covered in CARAMEL CORN, guys,
_Caramel corn._

I hear you, Universe.

I Will Not Get Off the Couch and Go to the Grocery Store for Salad

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21

….But I will go for cupcakes and cranberry juice.

It’s been a really ridiculous few weeks. You may have even noticed my absence.* I swear, I did not abandon you on purpose. I have a good*** reason, I swear. You can read about it at the end of this post if you want.
*Awww, you did? That’s so sweet! I missed you** too.
**Just you. Don’t tell everyone else, but you’re my favorite.
***Lame.

This is what my “Everything is ridiculous” couch pose looks like. It’s my own form of yoga, and I am head guru of it. I am, in fact, accepting students at this time.

This is what my “Everything is ridiculous” couch pose looks like. It’s my own form of yoga, and I am head guru of it. I am, in fact, accepting students at this time.

What I’m saying here, people, is that I haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks.

Seriously. I own three types of candy, one mostly empty bag of chips, and a lot of spices.

Seriously. I own three types of candy, one mostly empty bag of chips, and a lot of spices.

There is no food in my house.

Except the three types of candy, mostly empty bag of chips, and all the spices.

Except the three types of candy, mostly empty bag of chips, and all the spices.

Not owning any food means I have been primarily living on fast food, candy, pizza, and granola bars. It’s a slow-motion descent into the wild and crazy world of malnutrition. And so, from my artful pose on the couch last night, it occurred to me that I should eat a vegetable. Any vegetable would probably do.

Salads are made of all the vegetables, and are thusly the high king of all vegetables. Malnutrition can be solved by salads. Because that’s how Science works.

Salads are made of all the vegetables, and are thusly the high king of all vegetables. Malnutrition can be solved by salads. Because that’s how Science works.

But then I remembered the couch was comfortable.

And that groceries ARE hard. There are so many things to look at and buy. And so many types of candy to try NOT to buy.

And that groceries ARE hard. There are so many things to look at and buy. And so many types of candy to try NOT to buy.

Thirty minutes later, inspiration struck. It struck like a freight train. Or like an affectionate four-year-old-niece filled with sugar.*****
*****Not that I would ever give my niece sugar or anything. Definitely not. I am responsible. And probably an adult who can be trusted with small people. Probably.

THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT I NEED AND I MUST HAVE THEM NOW.

THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT I NEED AND I MUST HAVE THEM NOW.

Suddenly, a trip to the store didn’t seem so hard. It became a fleeting quest to procure cupcakes and juice – the most noble and desirable of prizes.

Look! I can find my keys! LIFE SKILLS!

Look! I can find my keys! LIFE SKILLS!

Filled with my mission, I wasn’t distracted by things like candy or toys or lofty thoughts of buying all-the-ingredients-to-make-actual-meals. I was focused. My trip to the store took 7 minutes and 34 seconds, and then…then my good friends, there were cupcakes.

AND THEY WERE DELICIOUS.

AND THEY WERE DELICIOUS.

And juice.

And everything was good again.

 

THE REASON:

Sometimes I talk about The Company – the sweet, sweet conglomeration of corporation-ness that pays me dollars and gives me a reason to use some of my more boring skills. Apparently they have noticed my undying love and blissful devotion******
******Tendency to show up every day and do what I’m told.

So they promoted me.

This has resulted in a reshuffle of my responsibilities and priorities, and a general mucking up of my time management “skills.”

But mostly it has resulted in me ending every extra-long workday by falling on my couch and refusing to get up. Because success is, apparently, super complicated and exhausting.

Where Is the Pause Button?

Posted by

14

Hey y’all,*
*This is a word some southerners have told me I cannot write down. I am such a rebel.

I know I’ve been a flaky blogger lately, and I’m pretty unhappy about that nonsense. I just want you to know, I’m still here, and still doodling. I just haven’t had any production/writing time to churn out some posts. I’m hoping to take this weekend and catch up, but I’m shamefully hanging my head at the moment for getting so behind.

This is not my hand, and that makes me sad. Click for source ("i am a food blog", which I <3) and recipe.

This is not my hand, and that makes me sad.
Click for source (“i am a food blog”, which I <3) and recipe.

In the meantime, go learn how to make Siracha caramel corn. (Pssst. Go HERE and do it, because I like this recipe.)

Then send me some. I will use it for fuel to write more blog posts.

Kisses,
Your (mostly definitely totally) dedicated, humble blog-writer

Life Lesson: Sometimes It Is Best to Let People Focus

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24

Life Lesson 7,252: It is not, actually, a good idea to annoy your mechanic.

Last week, I was responsible. I took my car to the mechanic BEFORE I went on my road trip.
Sometimes it happens. Like sometimes, you win at craps, and sometimes your dogs steal your pickup truck, go on a joy ride, and crash into a river. Life is wacky.

I do not recommend hugging your car

Hugging my car is how I know when it needs to be washed.

And then I went on a road trip.

NEVER STOP BELIEVIN'!

I never will. Journey. I never, ever will.

Everything was going fine. I had snacks. I had drinks. I had several layers of clothing on for various temperatures I may encounter. I’d filled up my car with gas and hit the road at a completely reasonable hour.** The drive was going well, when suddenly I encountered an obstacle: The teeny tiny bump created by a seam in the highway.
**Exactly 1 hour after I’d been planning to leave. Which is why I can’t have nice things.

Man, many miles

This gentle bump was really a completely normal road seam on the highway, many miles between exits. This is an important fact.

This should not have been a problem.

It's hard to make happy car-dance hands when something is wrong

I have carefully transcribed the exact noises for your pleasure.

But it was. It was a very noisy problem.

Convinced I was doomed with a flat, I drove on to the nearest exit.*** I coasted into the first gas station I spotted.
***The state of Virginia doesn’t believe in highway shoulders. They do believe in ditches and trees, though. Thanks, Virginia!

It really was in the middle of nowhere

My car looks more ridiculous every time I draw it.

I was on a mission to make it to my destination, so there was no time to call AAA.**** So I suited up for car work:
****Confession: There was totally time. But I wanted to fix it. Because I didn’t get to play with my car and change my own oil.

Of course I keep my car repair headgear in the car. It's the best place for it.

Of course I keep my car repair headgear in the car. It’s the best place for it.

I’d just gotten to work when I heard the Voice of the South speak to me.*****
*****Ok. It wasn’t the Voice of the South. It was a guy in overalls. And no shirt. It was the Voice of the Awkward Southern Stereotype. But that doesn’t sound as important.

Any time I can't see someone speaking to me, I pretend I'm being addressed by ghosts.

Any time I can’t see someone speaking to me, I pretend I’m being addressed by ghosts.

I was charmed by a spontaneous offer for help. It looked like the world was full of wonderful people! But I wanted to fix it myself, and I could see the problem. so I thanked him.

I don't make these things up, people.

I don’t make these things up, people.

It took a second for his words to filter through my ears.

Surely I have misheard this.

Surely I have misheard this.

Apparently the mysterious occurrence of a female-person working on a car attracted more fine and upstanding people with opinions.

I had sharp tools. These are brave men, my friends. Very brave.

I had sharp tools. These are brave men, my friends. Very brave.

This is how my brain reacted:

Grrr, Argh.

Deliverance Country: Don’t stop there. It’s more dangerous than bat country

Then the engine shield******, which had been improperly reattached and was dragging on the ground*******, came loose from the last broken bolt.
******The large plastic piece that is attached to the fenders and front bumper on some cars, beneath the engine.
*******And smacking into my tires. And picking up road litter. And giving me a panic attack.

VICTORY IS MINE!

VICTORY IS MINE!

I felt compelled to show off my victory to my new found audience.

Strangers in Deliverance Country are a little perplexed by grown women who say "Tah DAAAHHH"

Strangers in Deliverance Country are a little perplexed by grown women who say “Tah DAAAHHH”

But I still didn’t want to stick around.******** So I was back on the road before any more lady-lessons were forthcoming.
********I’ve SEEN that movie.

If you sing this song by yourself, you never have to say "no you can't!" You just get to chant "Yes I can Yes I can!" over and over again.

If you sing this song by yourself, you never have to say “no you can’t!” You just get to chant “Yes I can Yes I can!” over and over again.

And then a terrible thought occurred to me.

(I'm not being accusatory here, people. He realized he still had 3/4 of the bolts in the shop when I called him to ask about this.)

(I’m not being accusatory here, people. He realized he still had 3/4 of the bolts in the shop when I called him to ask about this.)

And so a terrible life lesson was learned.

Grumblemumblewhine

Grumblemumblewhine

Don’t distract your mechanic or you’ll end up in Deliverance Country with a broken car.

(Also, I’m sorry for not posting yesterday. As an apology, please accept this news that Oscar Mayer is now selling Lunchables for adults.)