WELL, I KNEW IT HAD TO HAPPEN EVENTUALLY, but I was just hoping it wouldn’t make an appearance for a few more years.
The Toyota is starting to have “Issues.”
I guess you could call it “Mechanical Problems,” but the car is running and moving OK – I just better not try to go anywhere if it is raining or snowing heavily.
The wipers stopped working in Mid-Drizzle yesterday.
TRAVEL IS ADVENTURE! OK, I’M COOL WITH THAT – UP TO A POINT. Once that point is reached it ceases to be adventure and becomes a serious pain in the Gluteus Maximus.
Tuesday and Wednesday were travel, and I guess, a bit of high adventure. But on Friday and Saturday it all became a pain in my Levi’s.
Friday Morning: I came out to the Toyota to transport my wife, the lovely and officially present, Dawn, and friends Carol and Martin, to a meeting where I was blissfully not needed. En route a sensor light came on telling me that I had a tire in need of air. We took a short detour to a nearby gas station and, for a buck we got the offending tire nice and plump again.
Come Saturday morning I took a peek at the car and I could see the tire in question was looking flabby again. It was time to have the tire repaired or replaced.
Fiction Saturday
Chapter Thirty-Six
“It’s at number 162, Tomás. Drive past it and let us out down the block,” said Laura, scanning the fronts of the small warehouses and workshops.
The cab slowed while Tomás craned his neck out the window looking for the address.
“There it is, Señorita. That’s it, with all the doors.”
The structure at 162 Avenida de Negocios was unlike anything Laura or Davis had ever seen before. It was built entirely out of garage doors.
“What the hell is that?” she asked.
Tomás smiled. “We Mexicans can be very resourceful. There are a quite a few buildings like this in Tijuana. They are made out of recycled garage doors from LA and San Diego. A few Mexican entrepreneurs have been importing them by the truckload. Actually, there is a whole neighborhood near here made of doors. Very clever, no?” He steered the cab over to the curb about fifty yards past the all-door structure.
“Well, Tomás,” said Laura. “Thank you for your tour of Tijuana and for your help. Bless you.”
“My pleasure, my friends. I wish you both good luck.”
Davis patted Tomás’ shoulder.
“Bless you twice, Tomás.”
Laura and Davis stepped out of the taxi onto the empty sidewalk. The cab turned at the next corner and was gone.
IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY FOR THIS EARLY IN THE YEAR. The sun is shining and the temperature is in the low 60s. If I didn’t know better I’d call it a Spring Day. I like it.
The only dark cloud on the horizon seems to be that it is getting to be time to take the Toyota in for its 30K mile checkup and an oil change.
“Open your hood, stick out your air filter and say ‘Ahhh’.” The mechanic grabs the fan belt and says to hit the turn signals and cough. Rotate those tires.
I don’t expect there to be any major problems. It seems to be running just fine. It goes forward when I step on the gas and it stops when I hit the brakes. Beyond that I don’t ask for much. It’s a car – not a financial advisor or a podiatrist.
SOMETIMES PEOPLE MISBEHAVE for no real reason other than to prove that they are stupid. A perfect example of this has been imposing itself on a friend’s family.
Some idiot has been breaking into our friend’s garage as well as smashing car windows. Some things have been stolen, but this harassment is really being done out of sheer meanness. How do we know this? Because this fool has said so. He has left behind notes saying that he is doing these things just because he can. He has said that he can do whatever he wants without fear of the police because he is “Connected” with the Law and that the police will do nothing to stop him.
Nice guy, huh?
ABOUT SIX OR EIGHT MONTHS AGO I began getting snail mail, E-mail, and text messages from my local Toyota dealer telling me it was time to bring in our car for its 25,000 mile check-up. Because the car had only about 16,000 miles on it at the time I really didn’t pay much attention to their communications.
They didn’t like that.
Down the Hall on Your Left 