I know it's been ages since my last post, but I've been kind of inspired by my sister's good example to make another attempt at staying up to date with my blog. (And by up to date, I mean more current than every 3-4 months.)As most of you know, she's being super awesome and posting at least once a day--which is something I genuinely admire.
However, coming back to the title of this post, I thought the world should know that they can add "vehicularly" to the ever-growing list of my "challenges." (The current list includes: vertically, technologically, and punctually. If you think there are any I may have missed you may submit them via email.)
As you may not know, January has been something of a car-centered month for us. It's time to re-register Patrick's Passat, which means that a whole gamut of minor repairs are due before inspection. And since he was already fixing his own car he kindly looked mine over as well. Which is a good thing, since I'm the kind of person who will tie my bumper back on with yarn (which is still holding up after nearly 4 months of winter weather by the way)before I remember to get it fixed. Anyway, he changed my break pads and checked my tires and a whole bunch of other things that I have to admit I wasn't really paying attention to when he told me.
Unfortunately, the real danger was lurking out of sight just lying in wait for the opportune moment...which, apparently, Fate decided would be this morning on my way to work.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but, my engine block caught fire when I "threw a rod" just past the Farmington exit on I-15. (I'm not quite sure what that means: threw a rod; but every man present who came to my rescue was certain that that's what happened. I assume that it's code known only to those in possession of a y chromosome and I bow to their greater wisdom concerning all things automotive.)
Luckily a gentleman driving behind me had noticed my distress and called highway patrol car to come help. The officer was very kind, and calmy used her fire extinguisher on my blackened engine. She also stayed until we were able to get hold of a tow truck. And, better still, Patrick was there about a minute after I pulled over.
At first I was mostly freaked out because I was afraid it was something I had done while driving, but Patrick assured me that it was just one of those things and I wasn't to blame. I thought it was very sweet of him to be so concerned about my feelings even though I could tell he was worried about what we're going to do now that my Toyota decided to literally go down in a blaze of glory... He had me go sit in his car where it was warm while he sorted out the tow truck and all the helpful onlookers waiting to offer an opinion as to what had gone wrong.
Now, I usually snort and roll my eyes when I read stories about damsels in distress--the silly creatures should stop whining and do something useful, I think to myself--but, let me tell you, there is something enormously comforting about being rescued from a situation where you know you're out of your element by a caring man who tells you he loves you--even as you're adding to his stress level.
Happily enough, everything's been sorted out. Dad drove me to work (and I wasn't even all that late). Patrick supervised the arrangements for the car; and I'm going to take the train and a bus home today. Sadly we'll have to dig into our savings in order to replace the car. Patrick says it's possible to fix it, but both of us agree that it's not worth the headache and it will be better for us in the long run to just replace it. So, we'll probably have to postpone buying a home for another couple of months, which is a bummer, but not terrible. I keep telling myself to look on the bright side: at least we had some savings ready, and--best of all--I'm not on fire.
