This isn't really to gripe, but I guess it's just a little ironic. Overall, I am fortunate when it comes to cars and their related problems. My 2001 Grand Am is the fourth car I've driven. (When my parents were my age, they might have been sharing their second or third.) I've dealt mostly with flat tires, which I can handle, and they usually have been in my driveway.
But the last couple of times something has gone wrong, I've been stuck waiting for a tow truck in the rain. (Or for Pop-A-Lock, like in a previous blog.) Today I was taking my grandmother grocery shopping, and we stopped by the bank first. After handling the financial business I came back and tried to crank the car. And it wouldn't. I'm no expert, but it seems like a fuel-related problem. (And I don't mean I just forgot to gas up, all you wise guys out there.)
We had been talking as we headed west on Highway 80 about how it would be nice if the rain could wet her yard out in Doyline. We hadn't seen too many drops... until I stepped out of the car to look under the hood.
Fortunately a mechanic shop I have used in the past was within walking distance, so I headed over. And now I will wait for my sick car's diagnosis... and the dreaded bill.
The whole deal just felt a little like a movie. The conversation that seemingly jinxed our morning shopping trip. The slow but steady precipitation that soaked me as I scampered across the ditch-of-a-median to the car place.
But, hey, it happens. And at least I have a car to borrow during repairs. And at least I deposited a little money... that I will likely be spending soon. But I was proud I didn't get frustrated or even cuss. (OK, that may have been because Granny was with me.)