My Mother the Car
Once many years ago, when I was in my mid-teens I took a trip to Disneyworld with my father, my stepmother and my just out of toddlerhood step brother. I also took another trip. While the adults were off doing whatever it is adults do in Disney I was left with my step brother Frank. I hadn't anticipated this, just goofy family togetherness, and had taken a tab of acid.
There I was, in Disneyworld, with Frank, tripping balls. Frank, being perhaps 3 or 4, got me to ride the 'It's a Small World' ride with him many times that afternoon. Tripping in the Small World exhibit with Frank.
Today is part tripping, part just weird. I got up this morning to a missive from someone wanting to know my actual theology or lack thereof. I've gotten oodles of messages at NLQ, but this is my first "you may be going to hell if you believe wrong so I'm concerned" ones demanding to know my thoughts on God. My friend Bruce gets them all the damn time, and much less nice than this one.
I've not replied yet, and I'm not sure I will. Anyone that reads here or NLQ will realize pretty quickly that while I do believe in a greater higher power I'm pretty sure it's not at all like what the Evangelicals claim to worship.
Plus I had way trippier things happening. Around ten am I made ready to leave to pick Jim up at the Liberia airport. I got dressed, did my hair and face, gathered my sundry possessions in my purse like a mountain of kleenex and went out to the car, the same car I've been driving with nary a glitch all week long.
I'd planned on quickly running a few errands before fetching Jim.
De nada, dead, as dead as a lump of metal with no engine. I had no clue why. There were no lights left on. Nothing electrical left to drain the battery.
I scooted on across the street to Mario and his tourismo company for ayuda, but no one was home. Next I hit up Bismark down the street. He came over and tried to jump the car, figuring it was the battery. It would not take a charge, would not jump.
By this time I was starting to freak out in the worst way, and it was now a mere 90 minutes before Jim's plane arrived. I called the tours and transfer company that does airport runs. They were full up, and told me because it was last second they would have had to charge 50 bucks for that privilege.
Freaking out even more I got a friend to give me a ride down to one of the local car rental places, and picked up a car for far less than that 50 bucks. I drove to the Liberia airport, thankful you never see speed traps in Costa Rica. I think I broke land speed records for the area, getting to the airport in 46 short minutes. I beat him by about five minutes, whew!
We got home and the stupid car is still not starting, no clicks, no noises, just dead silence. So it looks like we're keeping the rental car a few more days while working out what we need to do to fix our car.
One good thing, we're fully moved back into the house and I was able to access a few good television shows during dinner. No more "Bonanza" No more "My Mother The Car." No more stupid Jerry Springer. Out in the guesthouse the only thing I could get hooked up to the ancient television is my equally ancient Roku. It only had a few channels that I could access for free with the oldest movies and tv shows. Just the other night I watched "Kentucky Fried Movie" and some made for tv travesty that looked like an early poor mans version of "Coming to America"
Not seeing these shows is a good thing now because the cold medicines are making me feel very trippy again.
I'm so glad to have Jim home now to deal with the car. I know what to do with a flooded house, but not a broken car.
There I was, in Disneyworld, with Frank, tripping balls. Frank, being perhaps 3 or 4, got me to ride the 'It's a Small World' ride with him many times that afternoon. Tripping in the Small World exhibit with Frank.
Today is part tripping, part just weird. I got up this morning to a missive from someone wanting to know my actual theology or lack thereof. I've gotten oodles of messages at NLQ, but this is my first "you may be going to hell if you believe wrong so I'm concerned" ones demanding to know my thoughts on God. My friend Bruce gets them all the damn time, and much less nice than this one.
I've not replied yet, and I'm not sure I will. Anyone that reads here or NLQ will realize pretty quickly that while I do believe in a greater higher power I'm pretty sure it's not at all like what the Evangelicals claim to worship.
Plus I had way trippier things happening. Around ten am I made ready to leave to pick Jim up at the Liberia airport. I got dressed, did my hair and face, gathered my sundry possessions in my purse like a mountain of kleenex and went out to the car, the same car I've been driving with nary a glitch all week long.
I'd planned on quickly running a few errands before fetching Jim.
De nada, dead, as dead as a lump of metal with no engine. I had no clue why. There were no lights left on. Nothing electrical left to drain the battery.
I scooted on across the street to Mario and his tourismo company for ayuda, but no one was home. Next I hit up Bismark down the street. He came over and tried to jump the car, figuring it was the battery. It would not take a charge, would not jump.
By this time I was starting to freak out in the worst way, and it was now a mere 90 minutes before Jim's plane arrived. I called the tours and transfer company that does airport runs. They were full up, and told me because it was last second they would have had to charge 50 bucks for that privilege.
Freaking out even more I got a friend to give me a ride down to one of the local car rental places, and picked up a car for far less than that 50 bucks. I drove to the Liberia airport, thankful you never see speed traps in Costa Rica. I think I broke land speed records for the area, getting to the airport in 46 short minutes. I beat him by about five minutes, whew!
We got home and the stupid car is still not starting, no clicks, no noises, just dead silence. So it looks like we're keeping the rental car a few more days while working out what we need to do to fix our car.
One good thing, we're fully moved back into the house and I was able to access a few good television shows during dinner. No more "Bonanza" No more "My Mother The Car." No more stupid Jerry Springer. Out in the guesthouse the only thing I could get hooked up to the ancient television is my equally ancient Roku. It only had a few channels that I could access for free with the oldest movies and tv shows. Just the other night I watched "Kentucky Fried Movie" and some made for tv travesty that looked like an early poor mans version of "Coming to America"
Not seeing these shows is a good thing now because the cold medicines are making me feel very trippy again.
I'm so glad to have Jim home now to deal with the car. I know what to do with a flooded house, but not a broken car.
Comments