My luck, let me show it to you...
I had a 1 p.m. lunch date with Cristina down in Reston today. First time since the end of August we've been able to coordinate anything. Last time until May that we'll be able to.
I left the apartment at about twenty to noon. I've been home since about 1:15 p.m.
For those of you who are spatially clueless, the drive to Reston, barring stupid Beltway traffic, takes about 40 or so minutes. So, do the math.
Yeah. Lunch didn't happen.
There I was, about halfway down Connecticut Ave. to the Beltway, stopped at a red light. The person behind me didn't bother stopping.
Thankfully, we're talking low speed and I'm still borrowing the old Jeep from a friend of mine (who I am now dreading calling), so the back bumper is a bit on the squished side, but not much else is obviously wrong.
The teenage girl who hit me was a bit worried. Seems she didn't even have her license with her... or anything much for that matter. Her friend, in the passenger seat of the SUV, also looked downright ill with worry. I took pictures of the back end of the Jeep, the front end of her vehicle and exchanged information. Told her to have a better day from that point on and left as she called her parents.
As I pulled back on to Connecticut, Cristina called (returning my "Hey! Heading out the door now!" call) and I let her know that I was, most certainly, on my way.
Shortly thereafter I realized that, while I was on my way, I wasn't at all making the headway I should. The Jeep wasn't doing more than 35 and the engine was revving near the red line.
This did not bode well.
Seems I was stuck in first gear. Which, really, just doesn't cut it on the Beltway.
And so, after cutting back along some side streets to try some thing to shake the transmission back into place, I gave up, called to cancel the date and headed back north on Connecticut, dejected.
Figuring I may as well not totally waste the trip, I stopped to do my weekly shopping on the (slow) way home. This probably wasn't the best idea as, in my creeping depression, I purchased a bit more chocolate-related dessert stuff than I probably should have (mmmm.... ice cream... but on sale!).
Oddly, it seems that the half-hour of sitting has allowed things to fall back into place, transmission-wise. The ride home involved the smooth switching of gears (yes, it's an automatic).
Needless to say, that's both a relief and another annoyance.
This, my friends, is how my luck usually goes with dating. It is one of the reasons I don't date.
Now I have to find time to get the Jeep looked at and, if need be, arrange alternate transportation (yay! Zipcar) for next weekend's trip to Ocean City for the Browncoats: Redemption filming.
I'm pretty sure this was not all part of my plan for today.
It is, however, pretty much what I expected.
Which is a problem in and of itself, I suppose.
(And, the really funny thing is, this isn't the worst I've had luck like this go... last time the whole engine of my car at the time just kind of gave up in a spectacular fashion.)
I left the apartment at about twenty to noon. I've been home since about 1:15 p.m.
For those of you who are spatially clueless, the drive to Reston, barring stupid Beltway traffic, takes about 40 or so minutes. So, do the math.
Yeah. Lunch didn't happen.
There I was, about halfway down Connecticut Ave. to the Beltway, stopped at a red light. The person behind me didn't bother stopping.
Thankfully, we're talking low speed and I'm still borrowing the old Jeep from a friend of mine (who I am now dreading calling), so the back bumper is a bit on the squished side, but not much else is obviously wrong.
The teenage girl who hit me was a bit worried. Seems she didn't even have her license with her... or anything much for that matter. Her friend, in the passenger seat of the SUV, also looked downright ill with worry. I took pictures of the back end of the Jeep, the front end of her vehicle and exchanged information. Told her to have a better day from that point on and left as she called her parents.
As I pulled back on to Connecticut, Cristina called (returning my "Hey! Heading out the door now!" call) and I let her know that I was, most certainly, on my way.
Shortly thereafter I realized that, while I was on my way, I wasn't at all making the headway I should. The Jeep wasn't doing more than 35 and the engine was revving near the red line.
This did not bode well.
Seems I was stuck in first gear. Which, really, just doesn't cut it on the Beltway.
And so, after cutting back along some side streets to try some thing to shake the transmission back into place, I gave up, called to cancel the date and headed back north on Connecticut, dejected.
Figuring I may as well not totally waste the trip, I stopped to do my weekly shopping on the (slow) way home. This probably wasn't the best idea as, in my creeping depression, I purchased a bit more chocolate-related dessert stuff than I probably should have (mmmm.... ice cream... but on sale!).
Oddly, it seems that the half-hour of sitting has allowed things to fall back into place, transmission-wise. The ride home involved the smooth switching of gears (yes, it's an automatic).
Needless to say, that's both a relief and another annoyance.
This, my friends, is how my luck usually goes with dating. It is one of the reasons I don't date.
Now I have to find time to get the Jeep looked at and, if need be, arrange alternate transportation (yay! Zipcar) for next weekend's trip to Ocean City for the Browncoats: Redemption filming.
I'm pretty sure this was not all part of my plan for today.
It is, however, pretty much what I expected.
Which is a problem in and of itself, I suppose.
(And, the really funny thing is, this isn't the worst I've had luck like this go... last time the whole engine of my car at the time just kind of gave up in a spectacular fashion.)