Took my car to the repair shop in Denver where I was expecting to get a new battery installed. Instead, I got a $2400 estimate, and a phone call which went like this: "Your car isn't going to be ready as early as expected. Our guy who was working on it had to get fifteen staples in his head."
"Oh man!" Is I'm sorry appropriate here? Or What can I do? Not sure. I went with Oh man!
"Yeah, and if you had paid attention to your check engine light when it came on- what like two years ago- you would have saved yourself two thousand dollars and this whole trip."
"Oh man." Again, not sure what the appropriate response here should have been. Was I being accused of inflicting staples into a stranger's dome? Not sure. Not appropriate to get snappy. For the record, I didn't ignore the check engine light. The mechanic in New Orleans said, when I took my car in there:
"You good, baay-bee. That light stays on forever if you never go to the dealership."
So I never went to the dealership. Now I have a deteriorated catalytic converter which sounds like a feline Transformer character to me, so I'm putting off getting it fixed until it legitimizes itself as something I really need in my car (aka my car completely breaks down on I-70 in the snow next week when I'm alone driving to Kansas City).
Oh how I miss Kate's Cutlass Beauty (see above), and scenes like this at the Speedy on St Charles:
Ray at Speedy, all oily and all business, hiking up his pants to sit across from me in the small stained lobby: "How much I can pay for that?"
Me, deciding if a Dr. Pepper or a handful of Hot Tamales for a quarter are a better choice: "For what?"
Ray: "The cutlass."
Me: "It's not for sale, but I can tell you, you're not the first person who's asked about it."
Ray: "I'll give you two grand and a wedding ring if you come back for it."
Me: Free windshield wipers, new fluids, a lil glow when I hit St C.
New Orleans: Efficient? Hell no. Charming? Undebatedly.
I guess I'm looking for some hybrid of the two.