2 Things

You know how  you're just going along, minding your own business and every mechanical thing you have bands against  you in a revolt?

Yeah. Well, that happened to us day before yesterday. Or it all came to a head then, anyway.

The truck was already at the Garage because it was sputtering and Husband almost didn't make it home in it the other day. Since we have two other cars, we told them no hurry, get to it when they could.

The car I drive all the time kept having a dash light come on. They had run the diagnostics and said it needed a software update, and a dealership had to do it.

So, we made an appointment with the dealership. Who promptly told us they had to run their own diagnostic. Which they did. And said it would be $700 to fix the car (!) plus $70 more to replace a headlight that had just burned out. I called our Garage and they said, "No, no, no! Bring back here." I told them how soon we needed it and he began to whimper.

It's very sad to hear a grown man whimper.

We slipped it under radar early the next morning before they opened, and they fixed it by opening time.

But when I thought they couldn't I said "We can drive the other car meanwhile." Husband informed me we could not, as the transmission seemed to be slipping.

So, we have NO cars?

Meanwhile, the hard drive on my desktop stopped allowing me to have Internet. The nice geek I spoke with on the phone, who had me standing on my head and whispering strange incantations, said the thingamabob inside the hard drive had apparently croaked and would be pretty expensive to replace (of course!). However; since it sits close to the modem I could probably buy a $20 whatsis and set it on top of the hard drive and it could pick up the Internet by wifi wireless.

I'll get right on that in a day or two.

The other thing I was gonna write about will just have to wait.

I'm too tired to even bring it up.

Learning to Drive

For some reason, my daddy was in no  hurry for me to learn to drive. The main reason, I think, was because he didn't want to teach me. 

Mother certainly could not, because after driving into a house at age sixteen she gave up the sport. (driving, not slamming into houses, though, come to think of it, I guess she gave that up, too)

But I was whining so badly, that Daddy decided Boyfriend could take me out in our station wagon and teach me.

Looking back, and having had a sixteen year old daughter myself, I ask a reasonable question: Was the man insane?

Anyway, this car was the one my daddy used to  haul riders back and forth to Lockheed every day. In fact it was the only vehicle we had.

Now you're asking if my daddy was nuts.

Boyfriend and I go out on a fairly unused road, with a good straight of way, and he tells me all the important stuff. "This is the steering wheel. This is the brake, this is the gas, etc."

He told me to start off slowly, gently pressing the accelerator until we got up to a good speed of forty or so.

I cranked the car, put it in drive and started off. He fussed on me about where my hands were on the wheel, then became quiet.

You know this is going to end badly, don't you?

Suddenly the car, without my prompting it in any way, started going faster and faster. Boyfriend was yelling at me to slow down, was I crazy like my daddy, etc. 

I explained to him calmly that my foot was no longer on the gas and when I pumped the brake it went to the floor without doing a blame thing. 

By now were up to about sixty-five on a small country road; remember I'd never driven before.

Boyfriend reached over and he jerked the gear shift into neutral.

If we had been a cartoon, the body of the car would have left the frame and them settled back down. The car shuddered so badly I thought the motor would fall out, or something worse; if there was worse.

Remember, this was before the time of cell phones. Boyfriend drove back to my house with no brakes. We crept, and if he had to stop, he used the emergency brake.

I figured my life was pretty much over. I contemplated not going home, instead checking to see if there was an orphanage that would let me live there.

Daddy was right where we left him, his nose stuck in a book.

I don't remember who said what; how the whole episode was explained.

Daddy didn't say much, just called the tow truck. On Monday morning the garage told him that the gas hung up on the brake lines, disabling them both. He was told to thank God that it had happened where it did, for if it had happened in Marietta during rush hour, somebody might have died.

So my life was spared.

Surprisingly, this didn't turn me off to driving, and I went on to get my license.

After all, I didn't drive into a house, or anything silly like that.

Give Me A Mule Any Day

Daughter totaled her car a few months back, so we have been somewhat disadvantaged in the car department as of late.

Today, she asked to borrow what we call "my" car. I said yes.

Husband went to town and our old 1985 Mercedes ran hot, and I don't mean it looked good on the road.

Although it does.

Mr. Garage says it sounds like the thermostat, making an over-the-phone diagnosis.

So, Husband goes to crank (that's old South for start) our truck.  I lovingly call this the dump truck because Husband refuses to be smart and go to the dump on a weekly basis, waiting until the truck bed is full of garbage, which it is as we speak.

It won't start.

That makes zero cars at our house that will run, and with the way my health has been lately, it ain't a real smart thing.

So, I call up Daughter and say after you have dinner at Present Boyfriend's Mama's house, come home immediately.

She wasn't happy.

Well, neither am I, it just so happens it's for two different reasons.

It will be "several" days before Mr. Garage can get to the Mercedes.

Husband hopes maybe he flooded the truck and it will start tomorrow.

Daughter will come home unhappy, but she'll come home.

Lord, I hope that girl drives carefully.

Road Miracles

I believe it takes a lot for us to be continually  safe hurtling down the road in a tin can.

I have a few examples in my own life where obviously God was hard at work to save me from an untimely death.

Miracle # 1: I was about nineteen or twenty and was taking Mother and Brothers (who were about eight or nine) to Gainesville. I was driving a Blazer, the kind that got about twelve miles to the gallon. It was pouring rain and I was going about sixty miles an hour. One of the tires blew out. And I mean exploded. The car was instantly out of control, but I finally managed to get it stopped on the side of the road. (My arms were so sore for days I could barely lift them.) I don't believe I could have done this with my own strength.

Miracle # 2: Mother turned to me and said, "I will never tell you how to drive again."

Miracle # 3: She never has.

Miracle # 4: I was getting ready to get out of the car and look helpless, when a truck passed us, made a U-turn and pulled in behind me. He was coming from Gainesville, headed toward home. I knew him, he knew me. And he had gone to Gainesville to pick up a load of tires. He changed my tire, waved as he drove off, hollering, "Pay me when you can."

Miracle # 5: I was twenty-one when Yankee Cousin and I were in Smyrna, going to look at the cute little hell hole Husband Who is Now Ex for all Eternity had purchased without my seeing it or approving the buy. I was upset over this, plus the thousands of roaches that came with the house. Anyway, that's not the miracle. (or maybe it is, I let him live). It was once again pouring the rain. I came to a dead end and turned left, and when I did the car started hydroplaning, and we went straight into a ditch.  I didn't even have time to blink when a car pulled in behind us, all four doors opened where upon four big hunky guys got out, lifted the car out of the ditch, saluted, got back in their car and drove off.

Miracle # 6: I was twenty-nine or thirty and was coming home from work in Ball Ground. This was when one had to go up Hwy. 5 and make a left turn to get onto the brand spanking new 515. There was a good bit of traffic. I came to the turn lane, put on my blinker, entered the turn lane and moved forward. A transfer truck suddenly decided to do the same thing, right in front of me. I had a choice: Either go up under the truck or slam on my brakes. Praying I would hit nobody when I braked (I was going about 45 mph), I tried to keep control of the car, which was impossible. When I finally stopped I was sideways in the middle of the road. Everyone had seen it coming and backed off.

Miracle # 7: When I looked up, I was staring at the big blue eyes of an ambulance driver. He arched his eyebrows as if to say, "Do you need us?" I shook my head no. I wasn't hurt.

Miracle # 8: The transfer truck, who was going to go merrily on his way was stopped by a state patrolmen who saw the whole thing. He pulled us both other, and when he got through talking to that big old macho driver, said driver was blubbering like a baby. I had the power to press charges and he knew his brand new license would be pulled. (I didn't do this since I wasn't hurt). The patrolman petted me like I was his own child and gave me his name and said if I changed my mind, to call the office and he'd gladly proceed with charges.

I wonder how many countless times I don't know about that my life has been spared, simply because it ain't my time to go.