Not bad for a fat girl


So, Did You Hear About my Car?

IMG_4926.jpgMy car got an owie in the parking lot at school. Someone was distracted and, well, wouldn’t you know it, now there’s a blemish on my vehicle.

It’s kind of a scrape, more than a scratch. It’s not exactly a ding (more of a dang), and it isn’t truly a dent. I think owie is the best word to describe it.

My car has plenty of miles on it, and quite a few years as well. Sort of like me. It still works great, though, and it’s paid for. Frankly, I like it, even if it is a bit past its prime. It’s solid. Reliable. And I feel safe in it, at least most of the time. When I don’t, though, it’s not the car’s fault. It’s the maniacs who are whizzing past me, or worse, stomping on their brakes for no apparent reason. Those people, sheesh!

So now there’s all this stuff to do to get it repaired. Thank goodness for insurance. It’s remarkable how many phone calls and emails have already gone whizzing back and forth, and it hasn’t even gotten to the shop yet.

My poor car. It’s been so good to me over the years. It’s seen me through three moves, two schools for me, four schools for my son, and several road trips to Vegas, California, and all over Arizona. It deserves to look as good as it possibly can, given its elder car status.

It may not be a classic, but it’s what I’ve got, and I want to take care of it. I can’t wait until this process wraps up, and I no longer have to see my dear car sporting its nasty owie.


Deferred Maintenance

It’s early Saturday morning, the start of a three day weekend. I should be nestled under the covers, snoozing away, but instead I’m here, checking on the service hours of my auto shop. I should have done that ahead of time. They opened an hour ago. I should have been there at that time. I was asleep.

You see I’ve been driving with a “check engine” light on for the past week or more and I need to take the car in. I know it’s just for an overdue oil change, but those oil changes are important. I understand that, and yet I keep driving that poor car and telling myself that it’s just a few more miles, and I’ll get the oil changed soon. Wrong approach. I know this. Now I’m up earlier than I would like and I’m about to head out on this chilly morning to finally take care of business. Still, I’m procrastinating, telling you all about this exciting event rather than just doing it. Why do I do this?

ac904e_ec04cdfb43a8def448c1952c710a98f5.jpg_srz_600_600_85_22_0.50_1.20_0.00_jpg_srzIt’s not just the poor car, either. Right next to me on the desk are two cards that I received in the mail. The first is from the dentist’s office. They miss me. The second is from the vet. They miss my dog. Again, just routine stuff, a cleaning, some vaccinations, basic maintenance issues. I must make those appointments.

I wonder why I do this. I would never deliberately damage my car, harm my dog, or wreck my teeth, but by not maintaining them properly that’s what I’m doing. I do it with my health too. I’m overdue for a lab appointment, and I’m dreading going in.

I think I know what’s going on here. I blame it on being busy, and honestly I AM busy, but that’s not the whole story. I think I’m afraid of bad news. I don’t want to know that there’s a huge repair that needs to be made to the car, or that my cholesterol level has gone back up, or that I have a new cavity. I’m like the ostrich with its head in the sand. What I don’t know won’t hurt me. However, as we all know, that’s a lie.

It’s time to get going and face the music. Or the Muzak as the case may be. I think that’s what they play in the waiting room of the auto service center.