Off the fritz

 

 

CRANKY OLD FART #271
leftovers & links
Friday, Feb. 3, 2023

My Chevy's been on the fritz since autumn, and I haven't much cared. Anywhere I'm going, I take the bus.

I've considered selling or junking it, but the car has sentimental value. It's the last car my wife drove. It took us everywhere in Wisconsin, and after she'd died it took me from Wisconsin to Washington.

And if I don't like the commute to my new job, I might want to move closer to work. Moving would be lots easier with a car. 

And getting the car running again will be much more difficult once I'm working five days a week, so last Friday I finally called AAA for a jump or a tow.

 

While I was waiting, leaning on the trunk with the hood up, a stranger pulled over and offered me a jump. "Triple-A is on the way," I said, "but thanks, man."

Seattle's a nice place. Or else that man was trying to lure me for mugging and murder and what-not. Nah, let's go with "Seattle is a nice place."

 

The battery was completely dead, so the tow guy jumped it, but reminded me that if I turned the engine off, it wouldn't start again. "Needs to run for at least hours to get enough of a charge, he 'splained, but I knew that already. It's not the first time that car wouldn't start. Probably it needs a new battery, maybe a new alternator. Money, money, money.

So there I was, behind the wheel again, for the first time in ages. It felt strange to be driving, and the car sounded awful. It groaned as it moved, wheezed more when it turned, and touching the brakes rattled everything. Instead of a few hundred dollars, I envisioned a bill for a thousand.

Fortunately, the car got quieter as it got closer to the repair shop. Makes sense — it's been sitting at the side of the road for months, never moving, so the noises faded as the various fluids got where fluids are needed. By the time I got to the repair shop, it was just making the ordinary bang-bang engine sound it's made since about 2014.

 

The shop is Community Automotive, in Burien. They have no website, so you get no link, but it's a good local place run by a guy I trust.

I parked the car in the only open space at the side of the building, left the engine running because of the weak battery, and went inside.

"With you in a moment," came a shout from the garage part of the building.

In the promised moment, Dan emerged, same guy I've dealt with before — the guy I trust. "I've got a problem," I said.

"I can see that," he said. "You're old."

"Also constipated," I said, "but that's not a problem you can fix."

"Tell me something I can fix."

"My car won't start" I said, "so she's parked with the engine running. Maybe it's the battery, or maybe the alternator?"

"I'll check for power drains," he said. "Do you leave anything plugged into the cigarette lighter?"

"Only the GPS," I said, "but that's such a minimal power pull—"

"Famous last words before needing a jump," he said, and laughed.

"I ain't too bright," I said, "and the GPS hadn't really occurred to me."

"You're plenty bright," he said. "You're white. You people built all this technology." 

"Uh, my dad was the smart white guy," I said. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, I'll be the judge of that," he said.

Some people would've found the 'white' remark offensive, and I might've myself, but from Dan it was clearly a good-natured crack. It made me take a slow look at him, though, and under the scraggle of his beard, I guess he's not white. Maybe he's native or slightly Asian or Mexican or black. Hard to say, fifty shades of gray, plus grease cuz he'd been working on somebody's car, plus I don't care.

So we talked about my dented old Chevy, and he wrote 'battery' and 'GPS' on a Post-It note, plus my phone number. Same as last time, he gave no estimate, never asked for a signature or even my name.

"There's no hurry," I told him, which was true. "You could take a week and I wouldn't care."

He said he'd text me when the car was ready, so I said goodbye and crossed the street to the bus stop, figuring I deserved a Mrs Rigby's cheeseburger.

From the bus stop, I could see my car idling in the lot. The door was unlocked, the engine running, and I was leaving, which made me uneasy, like — what if someone steals the car before Dan or his man gets around to working on it?

Mulled that thought over for a moment, and decided that if the car got stolen it would be, literally, no great loss. It would save me the cost of the repairs, which would probably be more than the car's worth anyway.

 

The bus took me to a marvelous cheeseburger, which I topped with peanut butter. There's always an old prescription bottle filled with peanut butter in my go-anywhere bag. Makes a marvelous burger even marvelouser. 

An hour later another bus took me home, past the auto shop again. Out the bus's window I could see my car, still idling and presumably still unlocked in the parking lot, spewing hot fumes into the cold air.

Even hating cars and getting tired of constantly getting mine repaired, it's a challenge convincing yourself not to care when your car is running and unlocked and you're not there to stop someone from stealing it.

It's twenty years old, though, seriously rusting on one side, has a long strip of molding hanging half-loose under the right passenger door, and when the engine's running it sounds like seagulls getting shot. No discerning thief would want my car, but hey, help yourself.

 

All that was last Friday, and Dan took my "There's no hurry" to heart. I didn't hear anything until he texted me this morning, a week later. His text said, "Hey Mr Old Man, your Chevy is ready," because he seriously doesn't know my name. When I walked in, he said, "Ah, the old man with the Chevy."

He says there's no power drain, not even the GPS. The alternator is fine, too. "Had to be the battery," he said, so he'd replaced it. $135 for a genuine Delco, installed, and now the car starts.

Again, I'm a happy customer, and again I told him I'd be back in six months when something else goes wrong, same as I told him six months ago. My car is dependable that way.

 

To celebrate, I drove to Mrs Rigby's for another cheeseburger. I've been eating there a lot for the past few weeks, basically saying goodbye. They're open the same hours I'll be working, so there'll be no more weekday burgers at Mrs Rigby's once I'm employed.

After lunch, I walked all the way to the bus stop before remembering my car was in Mrs Rigby's lot. So I walked back to the car, drove it home, and parked it across the street, where it had been parked for months. And where it'll stay parked most days, because I seriously prefer riding the bus.

News you need,
whether you know it or not

• EzriCare eyedrops are blinding people, one dead 

• It's now legal for domestic abusers to own a gun in Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi 

• Kroger is sued for "widespread wage theft" 

• Biden administration recommends major Alaska oil project 

Insanity. The difference between Democrats and Republicans is only the difference between bad and worse.

• Video shows Seattle Police back down after bystanders step in over heavy response to "shots fired" 911 calls 

I love you, Seattle.

• Portland police officer fired for leaking false allegations is reinstated, with back pay 

• US man cleaning out late grandmother's apartment shot dead by police 

• Botched prosecution lets notorious ex-detective walk free 

• Video shows California police kill double amputee in hail of gunfire 

• Republicans aim to decimate abortion access in post-Roe haven states 

• Ohio's Dissident Homeschool Network instructs 2,500 members on how to raise "wonderful Nazis" 

• Unable to burn digital books, Orange Unified School District bans the whole virtual library 

• Florida teachers hide their books to avoid felonies 

• King of the Hill is coming back 

• Humans and wild apes share common language 

• Scientists launch project to 'de-extinct' the dodo, reintroduce to natural habitat 

• Beth's Café in Seattle reopens after extended closure 

I've mentioned Beth's several times here. It used to be my favorite diner in Seattle. It's great that they're back, and maybe I'll eat there some day, but they're charging upwards of $30 for an omelet, so you're much more likely to find me at Mrs Rigby's.

• Child molester gets Hollywood biopic 

Clicks ahoy

• How Southern landowners tried to restrict the great migration 

• "If you had to make a list of the 10 most important airplanes ever built since the Wright Flyer, the 747 needs to be on that list. It was a quantum leap." 

• Patti Smith remembers Tom Verlaine 

• 43 hours on the Amtrak Southwest Chief 

Not only can you experience much more of the country, but you are also almost forced to do nothing. On many other trips, I pack my schedule full of things I want to do. It is easy to be stressed about the feeling of missing out on something and being so busy that you don’t get to relax very much. On a train trip? Not so much. You can do nothing except eat, drink, listen to music, and watch the scenery pass by. Internet access is unreliable, and you can’t do much with your phone. It’s you and all the other people on the train with no schedule except the stops on the journey.

• Eight secret features of Grand Central Station 

• Stump homes 

• Electric tuk-tuk 

• The future of space travel might rely on buildings made of mushrooms 

♫♬  Mix tape of my mind  ♫

• All That — Sparks 

• Catch the Wind — Donovan 

• Fight the Power — Public Enemy 

• In A Gadda Da Vida — Iron Butterfly 

• NeverEnding Story — Limahl 

Eventually, everyone
leaves the building

• John Adams 

• Bob Born 

• Cliff Emmich 

• Charles Silverstein 

• Charlie Thomas 

• Top Topham 

• Tom Verlaine 

• Cindy Williams 

• Myrtle Witbooi

 

2/3/2023   

Cranky Old Fart is annoyed and complains and very occasionally offers a kindness, along with anything off the internet that's made me smile or snarl. All opinions fresh from my ass. Top illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Comments & conversations invited.

 

Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.

 

Special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always extra special thanks to my lovely late Stephanie, who gave me 21 years and proved that the world isn't always shitty.

Cranky Old Fart
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