Today, as I was leaving the gas station, I nearly dislocated my left arm. This is not the first time I have narrowly escaped this exact near calamity. I would estimate I do this about twice a month. I know how we all love a good National Lampoon's Day in Katie's Life story so let's call this one your Christmas present. Its long and it sorta meanders but the back story is neccessary so be patient.
Once upon a time I had a little compact car. I bought it brand new all by myself when I was 20. I, as I am wont to do, completely ignored all suggested maintenance on it. Hello? Spend money on car maintenance? I had bar tabs to pay, ya'll! So this little car had maybe 3 oil changes in the 6 years I drove it. It got new tires and brakes a couple of times because I tend to go through those things at an alarming rate. A-larming, I tell you.
The week of our (Mine and Jeff's, not mine and the compact car's) wedding, the air conditioning stopped working (the compact car's, not Jeff's. Jeff didn't even have air conditioning. I can't believe I married that...). The death of the air conditioning was timed perfectly with a scorching heat wave. I hate to be hot. Hate. Hate. Hate. So here I am running around town doing last minute wedding errands and the air conditioning is no longer. I called Jeff in a sputtering rage and told him I was going to buy a new car that night. Jeff panicked because the compact car was paid off. A paid off car is a FREE car and tossing away a FREE car (even a scorching hot one) was insanity. He offered to trade cars with me immediately. I agreed. Jeff's car was the same age as the compact car but it had been spoiled rotten with regularly scheduled maintenance and oil changes, etc.
As an amusing side note, Jeff took both cars in for check ups shortly after our trade. The neglected compact car? It needed an oil change (and brakes and tires but we saw that coming, didn't we?). I believe the total was around $300. The spoiled rotten, perfectly maintained SUV? It needed $1500 worth of hullabaloo. You see, you give a car an inch and it will take a mile. Spare the rod, spoil the import. Just sayin.
Okay so we switched cars and all was well. Until the gas gauge on the SUV stopped working entirely. The gauge read at empty all the time and the gas light stayed on. I ran out of gas twice before I figured out that I would need to use the "Trip Odometer" to track my fuel usage. And that is what I continued to do for the rest of my relationship with the SUV.
Last year we bought a minivan to complete my suburban mom ensemble. Jeff got his SUV back (anyone else seeing the theme wherein Jeff never gets his own new car? That's because he is extra special that way. Smooches, honey!) and promptly fixed the gas gauge (Hey! What the....!?). The gas gauge in the van works just fine but old habits die hard so I continue to use the trip odometer to track fuel usage.
And here is where we allow the back story to fade out and we pick up the current story. Whew. You were getting concerned, weren't you? Like maybe we were never going to get back to my nearly broken arm. And your Christmas? Totally ruined as you sit bereft and lacking a story....Fear not!
So I filled up the gas tank and got back into the car. I turned the car on and started to make a hard right away from the gas pump. It is at this moment when I remember to reach through the steering wheel and reset the trip odometer.
Raise your hand if you already see where this is going? Clearly I don't because I have done this multiple times.
For the slow pokes in the audience, let me recap, my steering wheel is cranked to the right and my left arm is through the steering wheel pressing a button on the dash.
And then I press on the gas and let the steering wheel start to slide back out of the right turn and point the car into a forward direction. And my left arm? The one stuck through the steering wheel? It gets twisted and yanked hard and I scream and slam on the brakes and narrowly avoid dislocating my own arm in my own steering wheel all by myself. People stare. Anna freaks. I ponder how I can keep getting older and but never getting any wiser.
The End.
Is it weird to say I love you right now? You brighten my day and make me feel smart so often. I say this as I sit here with a slightly black eye from my 15 month old, which is a story for another day.
Posted by: Megan | December 24, 2009 at 01:26 AM