Volkswagen Saga

In addition to having had strep throat last week while trying to finish up my Maymester course, I have been experiencing car trouble. It actually started a month ago when I got into my car to attend a former student’s graduation for her Master’s degree. I got into my car and it wouldn’t start. The following morning however, it did so I rushed it down to my mechanic who put in a $140 thingamajig. (By the way, as I type this, SpellCheck underlined “Maymester” in red, but not thingamajig). There has been another problem with my car as well- it has been idling funny (that’s a technical term). When I started it “cold” in the morning, the idle would skip and make sounds like the engine was going to die, but then, like a sprinter who gets a second wind, something would be bypassed and the engine ran smoothly. My mechanic Chris, didn’t want to commit to what he suspected was the problem, so he told me to take the car until it gets worse and then we’d have a better idea of what the problem is. So, what does a woman do when she finds a man who won’t commit? She finds another one. I took the car to a Tire and Service Center near my home. The service manager there is my Starbuck’s manager’s boyfriend. Last Friday, he and another of his mechanics attempted to diagnose my car for six hours and couldn’t find the problem. On Saturday he said I should take the car home and bring it back on Tuesday when the Dr. House of automotive diagnostics would be back from vacation. He was confident that this guy would find the problem. As I pulled out of the service center driveway, the car started sputtering and skipping. Acceleration produced nothing. I immediately made a left turn to bring the car back at which point my car almost stalled in front of oncoming traffic. It would just have to stay there until Tuesday. In the meantime, I rented a car from the local Rent-A-Wreck.

 

On Tuesday I received a call from Dr. House who also did not want to commit to what he thought was the problem. He recommended  I bring the car to the local Volkswagen dealership. Now, how to get my beautiful, sleek, black Volkswagen Passat to the dealership? I called my car insurance  company and added “emergency roadside service” to my plan, for six dollars and fifty-six cents. It took effect at one minute past midnight on Wednesday morning. On Wednesday I called Geico who arranged a tow truck to pick up my car and haul it to the VW dealer, free of charge.

 

In the meantime, a good friend and colleague, leaving for a ten day vacation offered me the use of his car so I could return the rental. On Tuesday evening, HIS car broke down. Wednesday morning when I went to school to teach my class, another good friend and colleague who had heard about all this from Friend #1 offered me one of HIS cars since he was leaving for China for a month. Friend #1 and I picked up Friend #2’s car and returned the rental to Rent-A-Wreck. Then we decided to have lunch. As we drove to the restaurant I began to talk about a concert I had attended on Sunday evening as part of the Spoleto Festival, an annual performing arts festival held here in Charleston. Featured player was legendary jazz pianist Ahmad Jamal. Seventy-seven year old Jamal took the stage with a bassist and a drummer and the trio performed incredible music. Jazz-pure and simple. As I spoke about the beauty of the music, I began to cry- not sobbing or wailing or anything-just tears, streaming down my face. I suspect that the tears had nothing to do with Ahmad Jamal but were simply the release of exhaustion and stress from having been so sick the week before and from the car issues of the weekend. Poor Friend #1.

 

On Thursday I received the call from Russ at the VW dealership. He recommended the 40K mile super-duper tune-up, new spark plugs and a new throttle- total cost $610. Later that day I received another call from Russ. Oh oh. I also need an “O2 Sensor.” Additional cost, $190. I vowed that if Russ called again, I would not pick up the phone. Last night, the phone rang and I picked it up. Russ wanted me to know that there were other things my car would need in the near future. Total cost of these repairs, which  could “wait a LITTLE while,” $500. Funny thing is, I actually believe him. I have not had a mechanic for quite some time who has looked at the WHOLE car and has anticipated problems. Usually, he has done what I have brought the car in for, and nothing further.

 

As an aside here, I want to say that for the past two summers I have had hopes that some of the extra money I earn through taking on summer courses could be used to purchase a new washer/dryer combo. Since moving to my new place almost two years ago I have had to haul my laundry to a local Laundromat. Now, hauling laundry to the Laundromat in itself isn’t so bad, IF only I could just pop in, do my laundry and then get the hell out. But I also have to dodge the advances of men who seem to think it is a good idea that while waiting for their rinse cycle to finish, they might as well hit upon women in the Laundromat. In the past two years I have been approached in various ways. These are just a few:

 

** One man wanted me to have a beer with him at the pizza joint next door to the Laundromat. It was 11 o’clock in the morning. Now, as a rule I am not opposed to pizza and beer at 11:00 in the morning but I don't share these with just anyone.

 

** One guy asked if he could “borrow” a fabric softener dryer sheet. What? Did he intend to GIVE IT BACK when he was finished with it? I gave one to him if only with the hope that the next time he went out drinking with his buddies, they’d detect the scent of vanilla-lavender on his t-shirt and jeans.

 

** In the space of the drying time one gets for a quarter, one man walked by me  and commented on my cowboy boots THREE times. “I like your cowboy boots.” “Those boots look good on you.” “May I  take your boots out for a beer?”

 

** One guy asked if I needed help bringing my laundry bags out to my car. Uhhh… I got them IN here OK, didn’t I? Besides, I feared I might have been the one ending up in my trunk.

 

** Then there are those times when I am asked what it is I am reading.

I admit that there have been times when I have chosen my Laundromat reading material in anticipation of this very inquiry. I look forward to seeing their reactions when I respond to this question by saying, for example,

 

“The Malleus Maleficarum. You know. It’s the Inquisition's medieval manual on witchcraft.” OR,

 

“Quintessence:A Radical Elemental Feminist Manifesto,” by Mary Daly, OR,

 

Any book really, with the word "feminist" in the title.

 

Any number of books in my possession with the word “evil” in the title:

 

“The Flowers of Evil,” by Charles Baudelaire, or “Encountering Evil.”

 

Anything by Aristotle or Plato or Nietzsche.

 

So it seems that the dream of a washer/dryer must be on hold a little while longer. In the meantime, I am considering making a t-shirt to be worn only on laundry days. The lettering on the t-shirt will convey the following: “THE MAN OF MY DREAMS HAS HIS OWN WASHER/DRYER.”