Here's just a silly story about the single life to tide you over 'til my big day:
I love our new truck! The truck is awesome. We named him Burgess for a very, very special man in our lives. I drove him back from the doc's on Friday all by myself as Jason had to be in Evansville that night. I had the air going full blast, the radio on and besides my nerves all was right with the world. As earlier reported the weekend went well even though Jason worked most of it. From here it goes south, readers. Exit Jason.
That's when the truck decided to have a little fun. Maybe Maxitodium (my gorgeous inferno red 300 M that we bought brand new the year Asa was born - that he himself would later so oddly name), had talked him in to playing tricks on me. After all, she's been so neglected since I've grown ill. The poor dear, has been nothing but good to us. Now she just sits there in the driveway aging gracefully -as she's still a hottie! But she really does deserve a night out on the town every once in a while.
However things went down, the single life just ain't for me. Night #1: Uneventful yet successful once the boys quit fighting to sleep in my bed. Finally drifted off alone about midnight. It was tough getting up Monday morning. I'm sure I was a sight making my way downstairs - both arms full of something or the other, as I did not want to have to make my way back upstairs again before school.
Most mornings Jason makes the trip over and over whereas I don't see why I can't just load up and take everything I need. Surely if I can't carry it, I can throw it down the laundry shoot. Reminds me of the genius Steve Martin character in "The Jerk" as he left his house taking "just this chair . . ." Anyways, we all made it downstairs by 10 after 6. Pretty impressive, heh?
I get on Facebook as the morning routines play out and finish up early before me and, "Was that the bus, Asa?" We darn near missed it. Had it not been for bus #8 barreling at high speed down our street just ahead of our bus, we surely would have missed it. Wouldn't have been a problem really. I knew just where the truck keys were.
Next up, Abe would need taken to school. We pile in Burgess and get buckled up and all kind of warning dings and dongs and buzzers and horns start screaming at me just as I shift into Reverse. I look over at Abe distraught and say, "What in the world?" At the bottom of the drive braking to shift in Drive I look at the dash for a clue as to what my problem could be. Nothing.
The brief moment we'd spent in the middle of our street to ponder our potential problem must have been just long enough for Maxitodium to relay to Burgess that I'd had enough 'cause the dinging stopped as well. Welll, more like paused because as I began to accelerate the healthy hum of the engine became immediately masked again by a symphony of dingers.
In the short distance between my drive and the stop sign at the end of the road my dear son tells me in the sweetest of voices, "It doesn't do that when Dad drives." After checking that no one was behind me (not that it would have mattered), I came to an unheard of complete stop at that stop sign. I even shifted into Park.
Thoughts of who would be best to call to help me in this my time of need ran rampant thru my mind. It have to have been something I had done. The truck practically new and very well taken care of . . . what had I done? Please not the truck. I'd have been better off if I'd have burned the house down. I don't remember anything going wrong Friday, but in my defense I did have alot on my mind. Hmmmm.
Should I just drive on? School wasn't far and the truck, aside from screaming and dinging at me, was acting just fine. But my dad had told me never to drive a vehicle that was making an odd noise or had a warning light on 'cause you could just make things worse. Smart man I tell ya. Then it wasn't a light shining that got my attention, but a light going out that caught my eye. PARKING BRAKE? Huh? There is an incline to our driveway, but we don't ever use the parking brake. Do we?
I mean, my dad had showed me how and when to use one. In my Cavalier and in his old Ford truck, but both of those had been on the floor. Hmmm. I didn't even know where it was or how it had been engaged. Had to have been an accident so I had to rethink how I'd gotten in. Ahhh, yes, Abe got in first thru my door. I followed.
We had to have bumped it or pressed it or activated it as we climbed in. There it is. Well, the brake itself was self-explanatory but how to turn it off was another story. A pedal that needed pressing, it was not unlike the brake or gas pedals. Just higher up, smaller and to the left of the steering column. But it could not just be pulled back towards me to release it.
Keep in mind, I may sound like a moron but I am not!!! At least I haven't always been. I have Uncles that are mechanics and for your information I changed out the alternator in my first car with minimal support/guidance from my dad in the Wal-Mart parking lot. So there! The lights dimming, the power steering going out and the brakes failing made for a scary night. I'd never been so happy to arrive at Wal-Mart. Any who, where was I?
Ahhh, yes. Still in park at the stop sign, I checked my rearview again before fondling the underbelly of the dash searching for a release. I began to prefer the dinging to the deafening silence when Abel innocently asked, "Mom, are you sure you have your license?" You know what? I don't know! Ha! I may need to look into that.
Tell you what I do know now though . . . I found it. Tiny pull lever to release the brake. Thank you Unk. Thank you Dad. Thank you God! And my neighbor thanks you too. He looked mighty relieved waving to us from his mower, as we pulled away. Surely he wouldn't have minded helping me out. Telling me I'm stupid would've been the toughest part.
Whatever. We made it. The afternoon went fine. The night too once Asa got over missing his dog club meeting. With Raw on TV getting them in bed went even better than the night before. And then more alone time. Yipppppeeeeee. Not! Slept suprisingly well though. No complaints there.
Tuesday morning came fast. Arms full again we descended the stairs arriving in the living room by 6:20. Falling behind our record, I know. Fishville, breakfast, more Fishville, homework and the bus. Upon my return to the couch I found Abel and Gooch snuggled up and sleeping. So I caught up on episodes of Desperate Housewives I'd missed and finished off a bag of chocolate stars for breakfast.
When he woke we watched "Horton Hears a Who," did homework and had a turkey cheddar sub for lunch. Then we were off to what would surely to be a better traveling experience to school. We got in. No dinging. Key in ignition. No dinging. Turned key. No dinging. Press on brake and shift in to Reverse. No dinging. Gradually let foot off of brake to proceed down drive. BING, BING, DINGLE, LINGLE, LING!!! What?!
At this point I consider walking to school. Let us re-cap, shall we? Abe got in on his side and I was extra careful not to hit anything on my side. What could it be now? Maybe its not Burgess at all. Maybe it's Maxitodium's cry for attention. I push back down on the break to assess the situation from the driveway this time vs. the street. Still the dingers ding. Having learned just how helpful the light up warnings on the dash can be I adjust my bifocals and study these first.
Score! Abe had gotten in thru the passenger's door this time and as luck would have it the dash read: PASSENGER DOOR AJAR. Abey baby, are you sure you got your license? Easy fix. Abe unbuckles leaning out with two hands to really get some power behind closing his door this time. Wham! Contact. Problem solved and we are off.
Back in to Reverse and away we DING, DING, DING! Perfect attendence be damned! Maybe we should just stay home today. Thankfully this was another quick fix. As Abe sprung from his seat with both hands in the air, turning to me in utter disbelief it became clear to me that he had not been buckled up. Or re-buckled as it were. "Buckle up, Buttercup!"
Finally, we made it to school. We were even one place closer to the front of the line than we had been on Monday. Then safely home again, I paused a moment to admire the havoc Burgess had wreaked upon me. I knew Jason would enjoy hearing about it anyway. With my procedure date approaching and thus my anxiety over that growing wild, I suppose I should welcome diversion.
Then I depart the truck and just as I reach the threshold of the porch. THWACK! A low hanging branch of my favorite pink blooming tree smacks me square on the head! In an instant I had reached yet another threshold - this one of tolerance. It became very clear to me at this point ----> tomorrow I'm taking the 300.