The temple trip was a nice opportunity to get in an oddly drowsy endowment session. I don't know why I was so sleepy, that isn't my norm at all. Generally speaking, I am trying my best to 'represent' for the person whom I am acting as proxy for during the session.
Today, I believe the person I was taking through was narcoleptic. It's the only explanation that made sense. I could have cheerfully snoozed my way through the entire proceeding somnambulating my way around with helpful shoves in proper directions from those who were blissfully awake.
When Beth and I got finished up and collected our cards to take off back to the north, we happily had visions of a 5-star restaurant experience to sate our hunger. Not so fast, kimosabe.
The truck was gasping out its last breath. Quite literally, I'm sorry to say. It would start up but when it was left to idle, it died like a fish out of water.
There was something wrong with either (A) the alternator, (B) the fuel pump, (C) the fuel line or (D) the ambiguously named Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator. (thanks to the late, great Louis Grizzard for that name!)
Beth called their military sponsored help line for automobile distress of every kind and my stomach cheerfully growled in protest.
Since my phone was the 'designated call back number' for the towing company selected by the kindly people in Bangladesh who directed the tow truck to our location in the temple's parking lot, I stayed bravely inside the warm truck while Beth fought uphill both ways in cold weather dodging alligators and grizzly bears to bring back provisions from the gas station at the corner intersection about a 500-yard distance from the now immovable truck.
They called just after she returned to tell us it would be another 15 minutes before the promised help would arrive.
Well-stocked with pretzels coated in way too much salt, fig newtons (which are essential on ANY road trip even if you aren't leaving the parking lot), bottled drinks and some protein bars 'just in case'... she returned in time to get the second phone call to make sure the driver found us in our moments of distress.
Although we weren't particularly teary eyed in our distress, we did laugh a lot about how we can't manage to do much of anything 'normally' when we go off post for some activity or another. It's always some kind of minor adventure.
The driver finally arrived with a whacking great big sled type tow truck that pulled the car up onto a moving bed with a come-along and then cinched everything down with chains for the ride to the Ford dealer for help.
When we got there and were ushered into the slightly greasy counter area that smelled of machine oil and Lemon Pledge, we waited for the nice driver named Mason who had most of his teeth and had made sure we didn't have to spend the night in the bathroom of the nearby service station eating peanuts from the vending machine and drinking water from the rusted out chipped porcelain sink.
The time came to thank Mason and pay, and Beth discovered that credit cards didn't exist in the world of Liberty Wrecker and Towing Company. Mason cheerfully indicated that he took cash and checks. A three day wonder that ANYONE takes personal checks with debit and credit swamping the nation. Even newborns have debit cards now!
But then, calamity! (Or so Beth thought) She didn't have cash or her checkbook.
Good thing she takes me on these little adventures that both avoid the laundry overflowing the hampers and gets me out of the house from time to time. I actually had my checkbook with me and was able to pay the nice man with several teeth for his good service in bringing us from a parking lot to the service department at the Ford dealership.
We went to drool over the new cars and trucks while the minions in the service department rolled the dice to determine just which of the lettered choices of car troubles got the call for the bucks today.
Well, after he departed, the service counter clerk came in and announced brusquely in her smoker's husky voice that they had determined the cause of the problem.
I'll give you a clue - the letters A through C don't come into play.
Letter D!! Woo hoo!! The hundred dollar 'were just gonna blow the junk out of the fuel line but call it something else because there are two stupid women out there who are in this truck and won't know the difference between a flutter valve and a butterfly' option.
I've never felt so hosed.
I knew it was coming and we even discussed it with the nice tow truck driver before we ever arrived at the dealership. And sure enough, they looked at us and decided we were blond enough to believe the old "Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator" gig.
Oddly, Beth isn't blond and mine is out of a bottle... but I digress.
Beth was able to employ the plastic option at this point and get us the heck out of there before they managed to sell her a new F-150 or me a new handicap equipped van. While both WERE extremely tempting, I can't imagine surviving the night when Rick found out that I had purchased at 65k vehicle without even consulting him on so much as the color.
Pete may or may not have been thrilled if Beth rolled up in a new truck, but I'm quite sure the thrill would be gone when he saw her hauling the other truck home behind it. The garage simply won't hold it, and as I understand it, their very backwards thinking home owners association has some retarded policy about not putting old vehicles up on blocks in the back yard as a centerpiece for the geraniums. I'm sure Beth would make it look really nice...
Truck firmly back onto the road and us headed north again, this time on the power of the Ford itself, we made it back to town.
We laughed that these little adventures need their own diary at this point. The only problem is that no one will believe that our excursions are this crammed full of meeting new 'friends' and paying for services rendered that were unplanned hiccups on the road to or from the temple.
This is the kicker to the story, though.
Pete told Beth while we were enjoying the event that he had been possessed of a bad feeling about this trip before we departed this morning.
Do tell?
Why wasn't that information relayed to us?
We would have listened. Even freewheeling, toothless mechanic seeking women like us would have stayed our trip to another day if only he had said it wasn't a good idea.
I'm sure of it.
We listen to him all of the time...
Or practically all of the time... when it doesn't interfere with the music that just got downloaded...
Oh well. Hoyle and Murphy are brothers and they both have laws that are invisible to the naked eye until you violate them. Then it means you get to ride down the highway of life with a dude named Mason wondering just how this all happened.
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