Weekend Update Part Deux: “Well, look at it this way, you saved $10 on gas”
Okay, so my way back from Seattle was somewhat less pleasant than the rest of the trip. I am quite convinced that the following is a very specific set of peoples’ fault. You see, pretty much every person I told about my Seattle trip said (among other things), “What if your car breaks down?” Why would my car break down? It has been on semi-long trips like this before, and it has been running well lately. Just because people make fun of my car doesn’t mean it stops working randomly every time I leave the Portland area.
So, obviously, my car broke down.
I was almost exactly half way home when I noticed my car was suddenly seeming a lot less peppy. I think to myself perhaps it is just have some problems changing gears. But no, I floor it and still am only going 65. (While I don’t know my car’s maximum speed, I did get it up to 95 once, and this is somewhat higher than 65.) It starts to get kind of jumpy, like it is losing power or something (Hmm, newish battery, that can’t be it.), so I decide to get off at the next exit, because if there is a problem, I’d rather it not culminate while I am actually driving on the freeway.
The next exit is, well, I don’t know what the town is called, but it is exit 72. (Note when I say town, I mean a cluster of gas stations, fast food restaurants, and a truck stop.) I get off (. . . the freeway) and at a four way stop and when I try to go, my car really isn’t having it. I barely make it to a parking lot. (Running a stop sign on the way because I am pretty sure if I do actually come to a complete stop again, my car will stay that way.) There is no problem with my oil, my coolant (which has been an issue before), my battery, or a lack of gas, so I am out. I call my parents to let them know what is going on, and then step into the nearest gas station to see if maybe I can find some help. (There is, however, a big difference between nifty “full service” gas stations in Oregon and gas stations in Washington, as I find out.) I go in and tell the lady at the counter that I am from out of town, my car has broken down and ask her if she knows of any place where I might receive some assistance. She shrugs and points to a phone booth and mentions that might be able to find some towing companies in the phone book. I walk over there (not so much to find a towing company but the non-emergency police number) and there actually is no phone book anywhere near the phone. Thanks. So much for assistance. (And small town hospitality, but I’ve known that was a myth ever since living in a small town several years ago.)
I walk back outside and my mom calls back on my cell (I should also point out that I have only one bar of both service and battery at this point.) to tell me that she and my father are talking to a towing company and will be there as soon as they can. I have some waiting ahead of me, so I get back in my car; gather my book, my phone, and my pepper spray; and hide my purse. (This isn’t a normal truck stop, this is apparently the Official Truck Stop for Creepy Truckers Who Breathe Heavily and Leer at Me Out of Their One Eye.) I call Nathaniel briefly because I am shaken and also because I told him I would call to let him know I got home okay, and obviously that isn’t going to be happening in the near future. Then I try to read but end up being overcome with sleepy. So I nervously kind of snooze until I am rested enough to go back to reading.
My parents show up eventually. My dad has AAA (one of the reasons why getting my parents help was a good thing) and they had arranged for towing roughly a half hour earlier, on their way up. So the tow truck should be there within 15 minutes. It is not. To make a long story short (too late!), I will simply say two and a quarter hours later, third time is the charm.
Miles AAA will tow you under their plan: 100.
Miles from where I stopped to my mechanic: 94.6
I finally get home a bit after 8pm. The whole ordeal really wasn’t so bad. Or perhaps I was simply in too good of a mood to care. :)
My car had two problems. The larger one was that the catalytic converter was plugged. The smaller one was slight plugage in the fuel filter. But now I have my car back, repaired and ready to be driven to . . . the store. Because I need tea and cat treats. (Hehe, yes, my life is that exciting.)
I did see something while driving in Washington that made me happy. There was a sign that said "Litter and You Will Pay" (approximately, that may not be exact), which I loved. It was like Washington bitch-slapped all the would-be litterers. Hehe, awesome. I have always considered Washington something like Oregon's slighly retarded sibling. That helped gain the state some favor in my eyes. A bit. (Hehe, they should be so proud. :P Actually, it is more specific occupants of said state that really help. ;) )
In other news . . .
Pants That Fit arrived in the mail yesterday. (Thanks a PANTload for delivering on time, The Gap. Grrrr.)
My PCAT score should be arriving soon. Hmmm. I am ever so curious. Also, I should probably register for taking it a second, actually serious, time.
Something that annoys me: People who carry around little dogs like accessories. There is this girl in my stats class who brought her tiny little dog with her to class in this little doggie purse. Okay, if I am bored out of my mind in stats, I know this dog isn’t enjoying it. Plus I’m not confined to an 8"x12"x4" pink plastic prison. Poor doggie. :(
Rebecca, Danny, and I saw Adam's band, The 88, play at the Doug Fir Lounge on Thursday. (For any Portlanders, I highly recommend the venue. They have (apparently) live music every night and no cover. They place is also hip and (phehaps more importantly) very clean.) A cool time was had by all. (Also, we got to meet the band and Adam got us free t-shirts!)
So, obviously, my car broke down.
I was almost exactly half way home when I noticed my car was suddenly seeming a lot less peppy. I think to myself perhaps it is just have some problems changing gears. But no, I floor it and still am only going 65. (While I don’t know my car’s maximum speed, I did get it up to 95 once, and this is somewhat higher than 65.) It starts to get kind of jumpy, like it is losing power or something (Hmm, newish battery, that can’t be it.), so I decide to get off at the next exit, because if there is a problem, I’d rather it not culminate while I am actually driving on the freeway.
The next exit is, well, I don’t know what the town is called, but it is exit 72. (Note when I say town, I mean a cluster of gas stations, fast food restaurants, and a truck stop.) I get off (. . . the freeway) and at a four way stop and when I try to go, my car really isn’t having it. I barely make it to a parking lot. (Running a stop sign on the way because I am pretty sure if I do actually come to a complete stop again, my car will stay that way.) There is no problem with my oil, my coolant (which has been an issue before), my battery, or a lack of gas, so I am out. I call my parents to let them know what is going on, and then step into the nearest gas station to see if maybe I can find some help. (There is, however, a big difference between nifty “full service” gas stations in Oregon and gas stations in Washington, as I find out.) I go in and tell the lady at the counter that I am from out of town, my car has broken down and ask her if she knows of any place where I might receive some assistance. She shrugs and points to a phone booth and mentions that might be able to find some towing companies in the phone book. I walk over there (not so much to find a towing company but the non-emergency police number) and there actually is no phone book anywhere near the phone. Thanks. So much for assistance. (And small town hospitality, but I’ve known that was a myth ever since living in a small town several years ago.)
I walk back outside and my mom calls back on my cell (I should also point out that I have only one bar of both service and battery at this point.) to tell me that she and my father are talking to a towing company and will be there as soon as they can. I have some waiting ahead of me, so I get back in my car; gather my book, my phone, and my pepper spray; and hide my purse. (This isn’t a normal truck stop, this is apparently the Official Truck Stop for Creepy Truckers Who Breathe Heavily and Leer at Me Out of Their One Eye.) I call Nathaniel briefly because I am shaken and also because I told him I would call to let him know I got home okay, and obviously that isn’t going to be happening in the near future. Then I try to read but end up being overcome with sleepy. So I nervously kind of snooze until I am rested enough to go back to reading.
My parents show up eventually. My dad has AAA (one of the reasons why getting my parents help was a good thing) and they had arranged for towing roughly a half hour earlier, on their way up. So the tow truck should be there within 15 minutes. It is not. To make a long story short (too late!), I will simply say two and a quarter hours later, third time is the charm.
Miles AAA will tow you under their plan: 100.
Miles from where I stopped to my mechanic: 94.6
I finally get home a bit after 8pm. The whole ordeal really wasn’t so bad. Or perhaps I was simply in too good of a mood to care. :)
My car had two problems. The larger one was that the catalytic converter was plugged. The smaller one was slight plugage in the fuel filter. But now I have my car back, repaired and ready to be driven to . . . the store. Because I need tea and cat treats. (Hehe, yes, my life is that exciting.)
I did see something while driving in Washington that made me happy. There was a sign that said "Litter and You Will Pay" (approximately, that may not be exact), which I loved. It was like Washington bitch-slapped all the would-be litterers. Hehe, awesome. I have always considered Washington something like Oregon's slighly retarded sibling. That helped gain the state some favor in my eyes. A bit. (Hehe, they should be so proud. :P Actually, it is more specific occupants of said state that really help. ;) )
In other news . . .
Pants That Fit arrived in the mail yesterday. (Thanks a PANTload for delivering on time, The Gap. Grrrr.)
My PCAT score should be arriving soon. Hmmm. I am ever so curious. Also, I should probably register for taking it a second, actually serious, time.
Something that annoys me: People who carry around little dogs like accessories. There is this girl in my stats class who brought her tiny little dog with her to class in this little doggie purse. Okay, if I am bored out of my mind in stats, I know this dog isn’t enjoying it. Plus I’m not confined to an 8"x12"x4" pink plastic prison. Poor doggie. :(
Rebecca, Danny, and I saw Adam's band, The 88, play at the Doug Fir Lounge on Thursday. (For any Portlanders, I highly recommend the venue. They have (apparently) live music every night and no cover. They place is also hip and (phehaps more importantly) very clean.) A cool time was had by all. (Also, we got to meet the band and Adam got us free t-shirts!)