Probably because I’ve been too busy driving and sleeping and working and paying someone’s wages at the Shell station and keeping a Columbian farming community in business with my coffee consumption lately.
That’s a lot of responsibility for one person you see. There’s a heck of a lot more than dandruff and dog hair riding on these shoulders, folks.
Now the reason I know I’ve been less than attentive lately is because about a half hour into my commute this morning my check engine light went on.
I’ve seen this once before. I was driving across the country, moving back to the northeast from Phoenix, and was somewhere between my last coffee pee and that mile marker where Officer Jingle, policeman in the great state of Texas pulled me and my gal pal (who was simply helping me move) over under the suspicion that two women in one car meant we were up to some god-hatin’ lesbian fornication. (Anyway, we were up to no such thing – NOT that it was ANY of his business legally, criminally, or otherwise.)
But that time, you see, I just pulled over and gave my gas cap that extra twist and we were good to go! I put that engine in check! Showed it who was boss!
Something about the light this morning made me a little bit less confident, however. I’ve been driving about 200 miles a day for four months now and that’s gotta take its toll. So I pulled off at the rest stop and proceeded to try and look expert about what I was doing. I tightened the cap (just for good measure) and popped my hood. And then I hummed and sighed over the damn thing for about 5 seconds trying to remember how to check my oil. I knew I needed to check my oil, because other than tightening the gas cap that would be the only other thing I could do at the rest area besides give up and phone home. I just couldn’t remember where that little pull tabby thing was. I guess I looked hopeless enough because I was quickly approached by several gas station attendants who promptly discovered that I had ZERO oil in my car.
None. Zip. The pull tabby thing was spotless. I could have flossed with it.
Yeah, so that’s bad.
They filled it up and relayed their prayers for health and riches to me - seeing as how only a very religious woman could have made it to the rest stop with no oil in her car. Apparently it was their professional opinion that I’ve been running on the power of prayer alone.
Oh, how very ironically metaphorical commuting can be.
UPDATE: I am beginning to feel like a real dipstick for not knowing what that tabby thing was called. Thanks, Jackie!
No comments:
Post a Comment