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01 June 2006 @ 12:22 am
Yesterday, I worked at the bookstore (*hrmphf*) and went to my phototherapy appointment. The usual. I hopped on the PIP to head home, and as I did so noticed my gas gauge was a bit low. No worries; it would be easy as pie (and why, I wonder, is pie 'easy?' Unless it's accepted you're buying the Pillsbury refrigerated crust, which would certainly lower the ability threshold on the entire pie making experience... but isn't that cheating?) to stop at the Mobil station in Tuxedo to grab a few gallons: enough to tide me over for getting in to work the next day, whereafter I could stop at a filling station in NJ and fill the tank at a 40 cents/gallon savings. Then, I'd hurry home and get my out of shape carcass on the treadmill, after which I'd clean out my car (still full of School Days stuff, including spurs and gloves and bits of armor and my tack as well as a goodly stack of CDs and my collapsible snow shovel, survival kit, and snow scraper) and make dinner.

That was the plan.

It all went swimmingly until I stopped for gas. I put fifteen dollars' worth into the tank (about half a gallon). Having chosen to pay at the pump, I assumed I'd be on my way. Lickety split, as 'they' say.

'They' are cocky bastards. They never figure that, for some inexplicable reason, your car may not start after you've refueled. ::harrumph:: Honestly. It didn't even turn over. Just made a wee, demure clicking sound when I turned the key. "No," I said aloud. "No, no no no no." Surely that would to the trick!

Only not so much. I waddled in to the office, where the resident gas jockey/mechanic was processing another customer's cash payment. g.j./m looked over his shoulder at me. "Hi!" I lifted a hand in greeting. "My car won't start. At all."

g.j./m did not so much as blink. "'Sorry. You paid at the pump. I am not obligated to have any further dealings with you," he replied. Okay, I made that up. But I could tell he wasn't all that jazzed about walking all the way out to where my car waited, its petroleum thirst momentarily sated but sadly unable to set out upon its continuing journeys through the black dirt region of NY state. The spirit was willing, yet, alas....

At last, I waddled back out to my car (in all fairness, the g.j./m waddled a bit, too). He had me pop the hood and attached the cables in his portable jump-kit (almost as cool as the plumber's Mr. Wizard water testing kit) to my battery. Which, apparently (the battery, not the kit), could tell you stories about Victory Gardens and War Bonds and the wisdom of internment camps. "Could be your alternator," g.j./m. told me as he worked, "but this battery..."

"...I know." I turned the key for the fourth time. The engine caught; all was well. I thanked g.j./m about a dozen times over. He was gracious and -hey! - he didn't charge me for the jump. Last time I needed one was at a rest stop some eight years ago. Sven, my Ford Festiva, had been struggling through a blizzard... Yeah. Wee old econocar. In a blizzard. On CHRISTMAS. And they charged me for a jump. Rest assured there was no pony in Ramapo rest stop history that year.

Anyway, I made it home. Just in case Moya decided she didn't want to start again, I backed her in ("the better to access your battery to jump-start you with, my dear!"). Good thing. Once I'd turned off the ignition... nothing. Lovely.

When barleymash got home, I filled him in. I needed him home to help me deal with car trauma. Fortuantely, he was so good as to contract a spider bite some few days past so that he had to call in to work that he might go to the ER to have it tended to.

Side note: remember the Ouchy? Well, barleymash now has his own tale to tell... Same ER doctor, though, and the same predilection for injecting a local anaesthetic and then fully failing to wait for it to have any effect before having at you with a scalpel... He may post an entry wherein he tells you more. If not, just know that he's doing all right, but it is every bit as gross and ouchy as my own Ouchy was. Only in a different bodily location.

The point of the matter is that he was home today (after going to the ER this morning and encountering Dr. Scalpel and Packing Tape), so we were able to take Moya to a local repair shop. Huge WhooHoo!, turns out the trouble of the previous day was entirely battery-related. She received a new battery (no more MovieTone newsrells for her, and at last she'll stop insisting that Loose Lips Sink Ships) and we had the all-weather and snow tires changed out for the warm weather counterparts. After, I took her to have her oil changed.

Productive, no? And good automotive upkeep. "I am a good car owner," thought I as I motored to Middletown to do some clothes shopping (don't ask; I almost cried in three seperate stores. I should never shop again. Ever.) and as I made my way home once again. As I sat waiting for the go-ahead to proceed past a bit of construction, I patted Moya on her dashboard.

And the button that disengages the emergency brake popped off.


I give up.

...and, scene.
I feel: blahI've got nothing.
Mollyzapthatmonster on June 1st, 2006 05:36 am (UTC)
Cars are wonderful, aren't they?

We have an 1988 volvo that does something at least once a month.
Jobs, baby, Jobs!: Headshotpicoland on June 1st, 2006 01:18 pm (UTC)
De-Volvolution is the phenomena.

Mollyzapthatmonster on June 1st, 2006 03:20 pm (UTC)
They do that. I have a friend who's missing her glovebox, we're missing our seatwarmers and heater.

I'm actually begging my parents to give me the car. They say they'll give me an AAA card along with it :P

Ratesjul: Connectedratesjul on June 1st, 2006 07:29 am (UTC)
*blinks* Half a gallon?
I thought ... I thought a gallon was four litres. Am I not paying attention?

*hugs* I hope you have a long spot between problems.
Mirandamirmie on June 1st, 2006 08:58 am (UTC)
I believe she is being sarcastic, either that or meant half a tank? Unless gas prices are MUCH higher out east than they are here.
Kelladyjoust on June 1st, 2006 12:36 pm (UTC)
It was a ham-handed attempt at sarcasm.
melkorspawn on June 1st, 2006 02:13 pm (UTC)
Mmm... ham 'n' eggs would be good for breakfast.
Mirandamirmie on June 1st, 2006 08:59 am (UTC)
*Glares at Mari's car* Be nice...
Kerry: Scrubs So Funnyscreamingdolai on June 1st, 2006 01:31 pm (UTC)
Leave it to Kelly to make a story about her car breaking down into insightful and amusing reading. Yay!