Crawling Further Out of My Cave

So yesterday I picked up the red Corvair from the shop where I had left it to have a new top made. It was beautiful: the new top is pristine, of course, and the back window (which is plastic) is clear so I can see behind me when driving with the top up--always a good thing!

I was feeling better after this dreadful cold (The Cold That Ate Seattle), so I dressed in a new shirt that Jacqueline had sent me, and headed off to Pioneer Square in the Corvair to get a massage. On the way, I thought there was something funky with the gears, and made a mental note to check with my mechanic about it.

On the way up up up to the 11th floor of the parking garage, the sound of the Corvair's engine set off not fewer than THREE car alarms, which was pretty funny. I've never had a car alarm. Never had a car stolen, either, but I do have a club for the Corvair.

It was a gorgeous day, too. So, after my massage, when I was heading home to walk poor Connie, who had been shut up for something like four hours by then, I knew I was in trouble. The gears on the Corvair wouldn't catch, and it was smoking and smelly. I couldn't make it up the hill on Yesler Avenue, a busy busy street.

A couple of folks helped me push it out of the lane, and then I called AAA (luckily I had my card with me, I am not always so organized, or so fortunate). Then I waited. And waited. And waited.

Meanwhile, guys kept stopping to see if I needed help. That car--it is just so beautiful. Even when it won't go, it still LOOKS wonderful. Even the cop who stopped was sweet, and didn't write me a ticket. He said he'd come by again in a few minutes to make sure if I was OK.

Anyway, the guy from AAA finally showed up. He said he'd been sitting at a park with one of his buddies, just waiting for a call, and then he got two at once. So we towed the car to my mechanic's and left it there and I came home to walk my totally insane dog and talk a bit with Younger Son, who had come home to walk HIS dog.

This morning I find out that my mechanic doesn't want to work on the Corvair, so I have to take it elsewhere. He gave me a recommendation, but I think I'll go back to the guy who worked on it when I first bought it. So that is hanging over my head. And I am without wheels.

Plus I am so far behind on just everyday stuff, because of being sick. I need to:

Pay bills

Go to the bank

Go to Kinko's to send some faxes

Walk my dog

Clean house

You get the picture ... Just life.

@ Jeanne Sather 2008.