[Here's Part 1 of The Plattsburgh Saga.
Here's Part 2.
This is Part 3.
Here's Part 4.]
You're probably wondering what happened with my car. Or you wonder how anyone can make a story last so damn long. If so, sorry, because we've miles to go on that tale.
(If you haven't yet read about the car, the story begins here and continues here.)
So, yeah, my car was to be done early the week after Thanksgiving. I'd already asked for the Tuesday after Thanksgiving off for a morning engagement, so a plan formed over Thanksgiving weekend. My father and I would drive in the rental up to Plattsburgh that Tuesday afternoon, then he'd drive my car and I'd drive the rental over to Lake Placid to drop off the rental car, then we'd drive back to my house together in my car. It's a nine-hour trip, and it'd be a late night, but we have a pretty good time together.
Sunday night, the shop manager at the garage in Plattsburgh (let's call him, "Lee") called me from his cell phone. I am not sure I've mentioned yet that he seemed to think, after our interactions in the car and on the phone, that we were buddies — at least. His status as a single (well, divorced) guy had come up more than once. Anyway, he called Sunday night to let me know the car would not be ready until late in the day Tuesday. I was so pleased I'd padded the schedule. We weren't going to arrive in Plattsburgh until late in the day Tuesday, so we were fine.
My mother, who is often skeptical, was skeptical. She suggested I call before we left.
Tuesday morning, I called before we left. The car would be ready, Lee said. We discussed again whether I might pay in cash in exchange for a sizeable discount. I actually lost it at him briefly in the phone when he seemed to be unable to actually explain this "cash discount" to me in terms that made any sense. I told him I thought I'd be paying with a card, instead. (Word to the wise: If you have prevented a person from calling AAA and then shown up incapable of moving her car without her own brute strength, do not later suggest that part of your "discount" is that you are not charging her a "towing fee.")
And then my father and I embarked on a pretty jovial road trip. We called Lee a few times from the road and we reassured the car would be ready. We stopped for lunch. We joked around a lot and told stories.
About 20 minutes outside Plattsburgh, we had a call from Lee. Would it be possible, he asked, for us to maybe spend the night in town?
Some questions are not so much questions.
We went to the shop and he assured us he'd be happy to put us up in the local EconoLodge, but he wanted to be sure the work was really done well. He also launched into a weird diatribe about how much he is trying to do for the community, between the homeless shelter he's trying to build (Note: Plattsburgh does not, in fact, have a million people in it, whatever Lee thinks.).
Luckily, my father is retired and didn't need to get back for anything urgent, so we agreed (as if we had a choice) and headed to Kmart for toothbrushes and toys for Toys for Tots. We had a lovely dinner surrounded by Francophones (because, you know, pretty much Canada). We watched a movie at the hotel yadda yadda amnesia something something January Jones. We slept in until 7:30 and enjoyed the waffles at the continental breakfast, went to the AAA office to satisfy my father's desperate need for paper maps even when I have a GPS. And then we explored Plattsburgh. As we wandered along the shore of Lake Champlain, we got another call from Lee.
"Hey, you," he said as my skin creeped. He was just wondering if it might be possible for me to pay most of the bill on the card, of course, but $300 in cash, possibly — you know, because of the homeless shelter. My father and I talked about it, decided it was clearly shady, but whatever. Sure. We could do that.
And there began several hours of Lee telling us the car was almost ready and then calling us back to say that it was not. At least twice, I was literally a block or less away from the garage when he called to ask for more time. Eventually, he called to ask if we could put the cash in an envelope and label it "Toys for Tots" because "not everyone in the shop needs to know everything that goes on." Seriously.
But through it all, we had a pretty good time. We walked around downtown, looking at the war monument and taking pictures with our cell phones. Although I do not recommend a trip to Plattsburgh just for the Museum of the War of 1812, I do recommend stopping in if you're in town. We went to Radio Shack and TJ Maxx and Staples (naturally, we needed envelopes). My father wrote "Toys for Tots" (complete with quotation marks), which gave us no end of mirth.
And finally, my car was ready, at nearly 3:30 Wednesday — just enough time to get the rental car back to Lake Placid. Lee warned us that it might need a "breaking in period." The car might have a little trouble upshifting. After one more weird joke in which he suggested he might move in with me and my father could start calling him "son," he gave us our warranty, we gave him a credit card and an envelope with cash inside and quotation marks outside, and we hit the road.
When we got to Lake Placid, I asked my dad how my car had handled. He said it was about like Lee had suggested, and otherwise fine. As soon as I got back behind the wheel, I was worried. It felt like it had before it broke down. My father tried to reassure me, and I tried to allow myself to be reassured. We were making good time; we decided not to stop for dinner and power through to Keene.
And then.
And then the transmission died, about an hour from my destination.
When the car stopped accelerating and then slowed nearly to a stop, I pulled over.
Day 29 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for the kind of father-daughter relationship that makes a semi-catastrophe into a fun(ish) adventure, rather than a real catastrophe. I am thankful for stupid, stupid little jokes, for support and apparently limitless willingness to help. I am thankful not to feel like "Daddy's Little Girl" because I have always felt as respected, smart, and strong as any adult in the room, even when he dotes. And I'm thankful he's finally started reading the blog. :)
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query plattsburgh. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query plattsburgh. Sort by date Show all posts
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Rest
[Here's Part 1 of The Plattsburgh Saga.
Here's Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
This is Part 4.]
The above, in case you were wondering, was mine and my dad's approximate route. "A" is where I live. "B" is Plattsburgh, where the garage was (see how close to Canada!). "C" is Lake Placid, where we had to return the rental car. "D" is Ludlow, where the car broke down. See how not close to "A" it is?
Anyway, back to our story...
Obviously, I called AAA and sent my dad to a sandwich shop to get us some dinner, and then called about half a dozen friends to explain how this thing that could not have happened had, in fact, happened. While I waited, Lee called. Yup.
"Hey, I just wanted to be sure you got home OK," he said.
"You have got some bad timing, buddy," I said.
Eventually, the tow truck came. Here is the difference between Lee (or me, for that matter) and someone who knows something about cars: This guy asked if my car would drive in any other gear. I had no idea. I'd only tried it in drive. Turns out, in second, it worked just fine, and just think how much easier that made hooking it up to the (completely real) tow truck this time. Wonder if that might have worked the first time. I guess we'll never know.
I got home, eventually, thanks to a long drive and a shortish walk. My father and I parted ways, and in the morning, the garage I like here in town checked out my car. The problem was definitely the transmission, they told me, and they don't do transmissions, so they referred me back to the person I'd called a now more than a week before. He was glad to take my car, but it'd be a while before he could get to it now, because he was backed up. I drove my car on over (in second) and expected to be carless for about a week and a half.
A week or so later, I got a call from the local transmission guy. My car was ready! The work had actually been excellent on my car! The problem was an issue with a part! I could come get it immediately!
Which, obviously, I did. And in my conversations with the local transmission guy, he wanted to be very careful to emphasize what a good job the guys in Plattsburgh had done. Top-notch work, the likes of which he'd rarely seen. They had not ripped me off. If I'd left with any bad feelings, I might want to call and let them know I knew how great they were.
I told him I thought I'd been pretty even-tempered, but I was sure they felt bad that I'd broken down three-quarters of the way home, so maybe I'd call anyway. He said he thought John did feel bad about that.
"John?" I said. "Was he the guy who actually did the work on my car?"
"Yes."
"Oh," I said. "I only ever talked to the shop manager."
"Oh," said the local transmission guy, in the same mild, even tone he'd been using. "Since you were up there, he cleaned them out and left town."
"Since I was there?" I said. "I just left a week ago."
"Yup."
Day 30 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful that my car goes like a breeze again. And I am thankful for confirmation of what I am trying harder to believe: Gut feelings are to be trusted.
Here's Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
This is Part 4.]
The above, in case you were wondering, was mine and my dad's approximate route. "A" is where I live. "B" is Plattsburgh, where the garage was (see how close to Canada!). "C" is Lake Placid, where we had to return the rental car. "D" is Ludlow, where the car broke down. See how not close to "A" it is?
Anyway, back to our story...
Obviously, I called AAA and sent my dad to a sandwich shop to get us some dinner, and then called about half a dozen friends to explain how this thing that could not have happened had, in fact, happened. While I waited, Lee called. Yup.
"Hey, I just wanted to be sure you got home OK," he said.
"You have got some bad timing, buddy," I said.
Eventually, the tow truck came. Here is the difference between Lee (or me, for that matter) and someone who knows something about cars: This guy asked if my car would drive in any other gear. I had no idea. I'd only tried it in drive. Turns out, in second, it worked just fine, and just think how much easier that made hooking it up to the (completely real) tow truck this time. Wonder if that might have worked the first time. I guess we'll never know.
I got home, eventually, thanks to a long drive and a shortish walk. My father and I parted ways, and in the morning, the garage I like here in town checked out my car. The problem was definitely the transmission, they told me, and they don't do transmissions, so they referred me back to the person I'd called a now more than a week before. He was glad to take my car, but it'd be a while before he could get to it now, because he was backed up. I drove my car on over (in second) and expected to be carless for about a week and a half.
A week or so later, I got a call from the local transmission guy. My car was ready! The work had actually been excellent on my car! The problem was an issue with a part! I could come get it immediately!
Which, obviously, I did. And in my conversations with the local transmission guy, he wanted to be very careful to emphasize what a good job the guys in Plattsburgh had done. Top-notch work, the likes of which he'd rarely seen. They had not ripped me off. If I'd left with any bad feelings, I might want to call and let them know I knew how great they were.
I told him I thought I'd been pretty even-tempered, but I was sure they felt bad that I'd broken down three-quarters of the way home, so maybe I'd call anyway. He said he thought John did feel bad about that.
"John?" I said. "Was he the guy who actually did the work on my car?"
"Yes."
"Oh," I said. "I only ever talked to the shop manager."
"Oh," said the local transmission guy, in the same mild, even tone he'd been using. "Since you were up there, he cleaned them out and left town."
"Since I was there?" I said. "I just left a week ago."
"Yup."
Day 30 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful that my car goes like a breeze again. And I am thankful for confirmation of what I am trying harder to believe: Gut feelings are to be trusted.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Lift
[Here's Part 1 of The Plattsburgh Saga.
This is Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
Here's Part 4.]
I hardly know where to start updating you on yesterday's situation, so I will start with the chat I had with my Rock Star friend from my smart phone in the tow truck (edited only slightly for length and clarity):
me: I am on my way to lake placid
This is Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
Here's Part 4.]
I hardly know where to start updating you on yesterday's situation, so I will start with the chat I had with my Rock Star friend from my smart phone in the tow truck (edited only slightly for length and clarity):
me: I am on my way to lake placid
And I am having the most ridiculous adventure
Including my transmission dying
And the transmission place coming to tow me
And them sending a trailer instead of a regular tow truck
And the tow guy throwing out his back
And me having to help load the car myself.
she: what?!?!
that is nuts
me: I have also been informed I'll get a discount if I pay cash, so they "can avoid uncle sam"*
she: awesome
where are you now?
me: Keeseville? Is that a place?**
I'm in the tow truck
Listening to loud rap
While the tow guy smokes
The transmission place is in plattsburgh
she: keenesville maybe?
awesome
sorry you're having such wonky transportation issues
me: I called the transmission place initially to say I was calling aaa
They said not to
Turns out, that was to avoid me getting charged
Which I wouldn't have anyway
Because I have aaa plus
But they didn't ask
They just sent a truck
Car is definitely broken
Unclear what exactly the issue is
But we assume transmission
she: that sucks. can [favorite Adirondackian] come get you? are you going to have to spend thanksgiving in a garage in plattsburg?
me: We is me and the two tow guys
[favorite Adirondackian] is getting me
Car may be done tomorrow
Which would be good
If not, then friday
Also, the flashing yellow light fell off the roof, so now it is in my lap
she: ha!
seems like a real professional situation you have going on there
me: Also, the trailer's license plate fell off
she: sorry that you are having such a ridonkulous time
me: It would be worse if it wasn't so hilarious
This is something that would happen on sister wives
she: ha! except then you'd be with your sister wives?
and also maybe wearing a long jean skirt
me: No, the sister wives wear regular clothes
Which is almost weirder
But yes, i'd have them
And also fortyleven kids
she: but then maybe you'd have four other broken down cars to be towing around?
me: That's what always happens when they go on a trip
Or move to las vegas
All the cars break
often hilariously
she: i am glad you are not a sister wife
for a variety of reasons Yeah, it's about like that.
Oh, no, wait, there's more.
Day 23 of my month of gratitude: I am so thankful to be fortunate enough to have family who are able to be both emotionally and financially supportive in an emergency.
I am also glad, for a variety of reasons, that I am not a sister wife.
* And another one if I donate a toy for their "Toys for Tots" box.
** It is a place, but it is spelled "Keesville."
Oh, no, wait, there's more.
- Regarding the tow truck driver: He went to the hospital after dropping me off, and has, so he told me, a pinched nerve and a fractured chest.
- Regarding the weather: Oh, yeah, big snow storm.
- Regarding my car: It's going to cost an arm and a leg (more than the Blue Book value of the Olds, way less than a new car), and it's not getting done until Monday or Tuesday.
- Regarding me getting home for Thanksgiving: Taking a bus would take 24 hours, due to transfers. AAA would tow my car and me back, but since I only have AAA Plus, and not AAA Premium (or rather, did only have AAA Plus — you can bet I've invested in the Premium now), it would cost $3.50 per mile after the first 100 miles. I have talked to every car rental place anywhere, and have finally acquired a Dodge Stratus I can use for the week —from Lake Placid, which is an hour away from Plattsburgh, where my car is. Just for the record, just because the Enterprise website takes your reservation, doesn't actually necessarily mean the Enterprise location you've reserved at has any vehicles on the lot.
Day 23 of my month of gratitude: I am so thankful to be fortunate enough to have family who are able to be both emotionally and financially supportive in an emergency.
I am also glad, for a variety of reasons, that I am not a sister wife.
* And another one if I donate a toy for their "Toys for Tots" box.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
We carry
I voted in 7 minutes total elapsed time from pulling into the parking lot to pulling out of the parking lot. That includes time to say hi to a friend, but does not include time to stop at the fantastic bake sale, because I neglected to bring cash to the polls.
So then I went to my local transmission guy, who is the nicest guy in the universe, because his shop is across the street from my polling place and my car's shifting funny. He found that the fluid was low and topped it off. While we were standing around in the parking lot, this exchange actually happened.
Day 6 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for so, so many of the experiences of living and voting and patronizing businesses in a small town. I am thankful for people who can probably assume I vote against them and who encourage me to do it anyway. I am thankful to know my local transmission guy, whatever his politics are.
Oh, also, if you're looking for it, a sad epilogue to the Plattsburgh saga: Poor local transmission guy never got paid for his work. The shop in Plattsburgh went bankrupt and closed; our buddy Lee really did just rip them off and they just never recovered, financially. That guy sucks. Sorry to be the messenger.
So then I went to my local transmission guy, who is the nicest guy in the universe, because his shop is across the street from my polling place and my car's shifting funny. He found that the fluid was low and topped it off. While we were standing around in the parking lot, this exchange actually happened.
Complete stranger who does not appear to work there: (to me) Hey, kiddo. (To transmission guy) Hey, [guy's name]. Fluid's a little low?
Transmission guy: Yes, just adding some now.
Complete stranger: (to me) I'm glad to see you voted. I won't ask which way you voted.
Me: Yup, of course. Did you get out to vote yet?
Complete stranger: Yes.
Transmission guy: (to stranger) I had an appointment at the VA earlier, that they cancelled; that's the only reason I don't have my pistol on me. (to me) We carry guns.
Me: Right, sure.
Complete stranger: I carry for my state, and I carry for myself.
Me: (nods)
Transmission guy: You should be all set for now, but you'll have to bring it back in and leave it with us so we can find the leak and fix it.
Day 6 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for so, so many of the experiences of living and voting and patronizing businesses in a small town. I am thankful for people who can probably assume I vote against them and who encourage me to do it anyway. I am thankful to know my local transmission guy, whatever his politics are.
Oh, also, if you're looking for it, a sad epilogue to the Plattsburgh saga: Poor local transmission guy never got paid for his work. The shop in Plattsburgh went bankrupt and closed; our buddy Lee really did just rip them off and they just never recovered, financially. That guy sucks. Sorry to be the messenger.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Good to the last drop
 |
| Lisa's not the only one who can take a picture of a mug. Mug provided by bzh. |
Welcome, Polka Dot Cottage readers! There should be some new stuff here soon, but it'll be about Plattsburgh, NY, so if you want to get up to speed around here, may I recommend you start with The Plattsburgh Saga from nearly three years ago? (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4) To get a feel for the rest of what I write, click around on the labels over there in the left rail, according to your interests.
Regular readers, hey there! A much more popular blogger than I (who is also my old friend) featured me on her blog this morning! She writes all kinds of useful/interesting/fun things, and today, she posted an interview with me! Grab a cup of coffee and get to know your blogger better. I will be drinking iced tea. Or lemonade. Probably an Arnold Palmer, because I'm indecisive like that. But I don't drink coffee. That was a bonus fact for those of you who actually read CMC, whether newly today or all the time.
(Also, today is RI's birthday. Happy birthday, RI!)
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Hijinks, clarified
That feels like long enough for a cliffhanger.
So, way back in August 2007, I met a young woman named Renée (most of my friends get code names on here, but Renée blogs under her own name and I'm about to link to it, so what would be the point?). One of our close mutual friends (you may recall him as my favorite Adirondackian from the Plattsburgh saga) informed me that we should be friends. I was going to be working with her for a week, so I didn't have a lot of time to get to know her, but we were friendly, and that was nice.
At some point, when I got on Facebook, we became Facebook friends, and I got to vaguely keep up with her college life, her commitment to education, her politics. Again, it was nice.
In August 2012, after graduating from college, Renée joined the Peace Corps and started a blog about her life in Namibia. And her blog, which I read, was amazing. She was such a great combination of young-and-idealistic and wise-beyond-her-years. She addressed the ambivalence I have myself about the Peace Corps, and was clearly doing all the right things for all the right reasons. At some point, I was hanging out with a mutual friend (you may recall Bread Truck Grrl from the moving story), and we were discussing Renée, and BTG suggested I should send an Renée e-mail. And I did, which began a very fun and rewarding long-distance friendship.
I'll let her tell you what comes next at her blog. But a couple of additions: Renée told only two people back in the U.S. — her dad and me — when she was coming home, and she stayed with me off-and-on for three weeks. It. Was. Awesome. We had a blast. And, of course, since virtually no one knew we were close friends (including BTG, including MFA), no one suspected she'd be here.
And because I cannot mind my own business, I helped her plan a little. And every single surprise (at least the ones I witnessed and saw later on video) was incredible. This girl lights up lives when she shows up and you think she's in Namibia. When she snuck up on BTG in my house, they rolled around on the floor like puppies for easily fifteen minutes. MFA just stared agape at the screen as we Skyped from my living room. Many more people had many more delicious reactions.
And all those people kept her secret, did not post about it on Facebook, did not post about it here on CMC, did not spill the beans to the one friend she wanted to surprise most of all. And so obviously, that was the best one.
(I am sure the hijinks continue, because that's what Renée's like, but she hasn't been staying with me for a couple of weeks, so my life is less hijinky. Neither of us is pregnant.)
So, way back in August 2007, I met a young woman named Renée (most of my friends get code names on here, but Renée blogs under her own name and I'm about to link to it, so what would be the point?). One of our close mutual friends (you may recall him as my favorite Adirondackian from the Plattsburgh saga) informed me that we should be friends. I was going to be working with her for a week, so I didn't have a lot of time to get to know her, but we were friendly, and that was nice.
At some point, when I got on Facebook, we became Facebook friends, and I got to vaguely keep up with her college life, her commitment to education, her politics. Again, it was nice.
In August 2012, after graduating from college, Renée joined the Peace Corps and started a blog about her life in Namibia. And her blog, which I read, was amazing. She was such a great combination of young-and-idealistic and wise-beyond-her-years. She addressed the ambivalence I have myself about the Peace Corps, and was clearly doing all the right things for all the right reasons. At some point, I was hanging out with a mutual friend (you may recall Bread Truck Grrl from the moving story), and we were discussing Renée, and BTG suggested I should send an Renée e-mail. And I did, which began a very fun and rewarding long-distance friendship.
I'll let her tell you what comes next at her blog. But a couple of additions: Renée told only two people back in the U.S. — her dad and me — when she was coming home, and she stayed with me off-and-on for three weeks. It. Was. Awesome. We had a blast. And, of course, since virtually no one knew we were close friends (including BTG, including MFA), no one suspected she'd be here.
And because I cannot mind my own business, I helped her plan a little. And every single surprise (at least the ones I witnessed and saw later on video) was incredible. This girl lights up lives when she shows up and you think she's in Namibia. When she snuck up on BTG in my house, they rolled around on the floor like puppies for easily fifteen minutes. MFA just stared agape at the screen as we Skyped from my living room. Many more people had many more delicious reactions.
And all those people kept her secret, did not post about it on Facebook, did not post about it here on CMC, did not spill the beans to the one friend she wanted to surprise most of all. And so obviously, that was the best one.
(I am sure the hijinks continue, because that's what Renée's like, but she hasn't been staying with me for a couple of weeks, so my life is less hijinky. Neither of us is pregnant.)
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Happy Blogiversary Part 2: Favorites
So, I asked for your favorite posts when I asked for questions, and got two great responses.
First, April's:
And Joe's:
But April also asked what my favorite post is. And yadda yadda they're all my babies yadda couldn't pick just one, but whatever. Of course there are some I like better than others. So you're getting one per year of City Mouse Country.
So, what am I missing? What were your faves, from any year?
Day 20 of my month of gratitude: As I said earlier, I am thankful for positive feedback. I am double-thankful that some of you keep reading at all. Thanks, friends.
First, April's:
I did not find the one I was looking for and would like to request (I think it was written for Pride day/week maybe last year and is advice for straight parents).
However, I did find a shocking number of posts that I somehow missed, including a new favorite, "From," which you should also re-post.
And Joe's:
Your odyssey to upstate NY and the car troubles you encountered almost brought a tear to my eye. It's like they say, you can't make this stuff up. [Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4]
But, you know me, CMC. I can also be 12 years old sometimes. Which is why my other favorite posts were the ones that contained the word "pally."
But April also asked what my favorite post is. And yadda yadda they're all my babies yadda couldn't pick just one, but whatever. Of course there are some I like better than others. So you're getting one per year of City Mouse Country.
- From Year One: Sometimes you feel like a nut
- From Year Two: Rick rolling
- From Year Three: Train the Trainer
- From Year Four: Playing (and Replaying)
- From Year Five: Obviously, the Plattsburgh saga. But since that's already shared, Biden Time will do.
So, what am I missing? What were your faves, from any year?
Day 20 of my month of gratitude: As I said earlier, I am thankful for positive feedback. I am double-thankful that some of you keep reading at all. Thanks, friends.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Wait
[This is Part 1 of The Plattsburgh Saga.
Here's Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
Here's Part 4.]
I'm writing this one from the front seat of my (stopped) car.
I had this whole thing written in my head, see. I'm on my way to visit my favorite Adirondackian, and for some reason the GPS sent me a different way than usual. It's not longer, so I took it, and it led me down lots of smaller country roads, places where I could think and enjoy amazing views of Lake Champlain. I was thankful, I thought, for roads less traveled by.
And then.
And then the transmission died, about an hour from my destination.
I mean, probably.
No one's looked at the car yet, but when the car stopped accelerating and then slowed nearly to a stop, I pulled over. I called my friend and asked him for the name of a mechanic closer to him I could have the car towed to. I called the mechanic, who wasn't going to be able to take me for a week, but who recommended a transmission-specific place I could call. I called that place and arranged for a tow, and then called my friend back to arrange for him to pick me up at the garage. I called my mother so she wouldn't worry that I hadn't let her know I'd arrived yet.
And now I am in my car, scribbling* out blog posts on a notepad, safe and waiting for the tow truck.
Day 22 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for roads less traveled by — and also for cell phones and AAA plus.
* I think "scratching out" sounds more like printing, and "scribbling out" sounds more like handwriting. Thoughts?
Here's Part 2.
Here's Part 3.
Here's Part 4.]
I'm writing this one from the front seat of my (stopped) car.
I had this whole thing written in my head, see. I'm on my way to visit my favorite Adirondackian, and for some reason the GPS sent me a different way than usual. It's not longer, so I took it, and it led me down lots of smaller country roads, places where I could think and enjoy amazing views of Lake Champlain. I was thankful, I thought, for roads less traveled by.
And then.
And then the transmission died, about an hour from my destination.
I mean, probably.
No one's looked at the car yet, but when the car stopped accelerating and then slowed nearly to a stop, I pulled over. I called my friend and asked him for the name of a mechanic closer to him I could have the car towed to. I called the mechanic, who wasn't going to be able to take me for a week, but who recommended a transmission-specific place I could call. I called that place and arranged for a tow, and then called my friend back to arrange for him to pick me up at the garage. I called my mother so she wouldn't worry that I hadn't let her know I'd arrived yet.
And now I am in my car, scribbling* out blog posts on a notepad, safe and waiting for the tow truck.
Day 22 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for roads less traveled by — and also for cell phones and AAA plus.
* I think "scratching out" sounds more like printing, and "scribbling out" sounds more like handwriting. Thoughts?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
