Wrong oh wrong oh wrong, Jeffie!!!! Did I not tell you???
Two weeks ago, I got in my van and started it and put it in Reverse and it just sat there. Then I put it in Drive and it just sat there. The transmission was throwing another temper tantrum.
I did my technical thing for a while putting it in drive and reverse and neutral and turning it off and on. You never know what might work with cars, and I do have a gift for miraculous healings as you have probably noticed, but it was stubborn. It was also a cold day and the heater hasn't worked in months unless you were on the highway going over 60; then for some reason it heated up rapidly to about 120 degrees no matter where you set it. I went inside and called Dan and said, "It's over." He said, "OK,I'll buy a car tomorrow."
So I went back out and told the van and the damn thing went right into gear. But I wasn't falling for that again. It had overplayed its hand, had gone too far. It was over.
It's really sort of pathetic, isn't it-a funeral ritual in a way, like preparing the body for burial. We cleaned out the McDonald wrappers and sports equipment, we vacuumed and washed and Armoralled. We found clothes in sizes the boys hadn't worn for three years and petrified food that we probably could have sent to the Smithsonian for carbon dating. When we were done, it looked as good as a five year old van can look that has hauled baseball teams and Christmas trees and has had orange juice explode in the back seat, and absorbed enough spilt coffee to bring tears to the eye of Juan Valdez. I gave it an affectionate pat, turned away and laughed.
Then Dan left-alone. I can't participate in these macho complex wheelings and dealings. Bargaining is not one of my talents. I've insulted merchants in Mexico and Haiti because I paid what they asked. My idea of tough negotiation is making an offer and when someone says, "No," I say, "Oh, ok." The last time we went together to buy a car Dan had to take me outside in the middle of everything and tell me to stop agreeing with the salesman and saying,"Oh, just pay him."
Dan loves it. He gets this gleam in his eye. His goal is to see how quickly he can get to the manager. Apparently until then, nothing counts. I knew what I wanted, I had driven one, and that day he came home in a few hours with a beautiful gold Sebring convertible with leather seats and a 6 thingy CD player and the little key doodad that makes noises. No more van.
Not one trip to MacD's has been made in that car. The other day Dan took it to work for some reason and I followed him screaming. I threw myself in front of the cardoor, arms outflung protectively and wouldn't move until he turned over his coffee cup. When I went out yesterday, Blue was walking on the top. He won't do that again.
So some of us learn, Silly Jeff. There is hope of recovery for Vanaddicts. |
