I was in the car and returning home after taking our
“granddog” to the vet. As I passed a lawn
service mowing the median between the lanes I heard a loud CRACK! I silently hoped that a rock did not damage
the body of the car. The rock didn’t chip
the paint instead; the rock hit the windshield causing a fissure across the top
of the glass.
Oh, no! Now I have to
deal with my husband’s twenty question interrogation process. He will want to know all the details of the
incident to find out why I would let such a disaster occur; and it won’t help
to say that I was just minding my own business driving down the road and the
lawn service was just doing their business cutting the grass because he will
want to know why flying rocks happen, why it hit our car and why I didn’t avoid
it.
After three decades of wedded bliss I know my husband likes to
know details. One such event occurred when
I went to get the oil changed in my car.
I don’t like car maintenance and usually avoid it, but the small store
front seemed so welcoming that I decided to drive through one of its wide open
doors. I was adjusting the car around this
little rack thing when a young man came running toward me, waving his arms, and
yelling at me to stop! I told my friend
I would call her back later because the oil changing guy was going berserk and
needed my attention.
I rolled down the window and the man seemed truly agitated
and a bit frightened. He asked me to get
out of the car while explaining that my car was teetering on the edge of the
pit and that I would need to call a towing service to get me out of the
hole. I never saw a hole in the floor
and he explained the opening was under some metal device that was shoved aside
when I pulled in the garage.
Okay, so I called my husband to solicit his advice on the
best procedure to extract me from the contrivance without too much damage or
expense. Well, you would have thought my
car was already at the bottom of that hole the way he carried on! He gasped and then started asking me how in
the world did I get into such a predicament?
Let me tell you, he acted astonished that I didn’t wait for the service
man to wave me into the bay area and he continued to quiz me by asking about the
location of the pit, and he just went on and on about all the things he thought
I should know about dingy old auto shops.
I had enough scrutiny about my actions and told him that I
would handle it myself. I got back in my
car and asked the young man to direct me out of the garage. He reluctantly stood in front of the car and
waved to the right and left as I maneuvered the tires away from the pit. My husband arrived at the shop just as I
pulled safely out of the garage. He quietly shook his head in commiseration for
the young man when I asked to be redirected into the bay area so I could get
the oil changed in my car.
Whether in ignorance
or by accident we know bad things happen and misery is as common to man as
breathing. However, I learn from my
mistakes – from now on my husband can take the car to the shop for oil changes
and windshield repairs!
