How Dillo's Car Got Washed.
Let's start at the beginning. I got up, ate a little breakfast, and drove to my meditation class, meditated for a bit, then decided I was hungry. So I got up, bought myself a Fig Newton, and went back to meditating.
After that, I drove to the nearby mall. I sat in the driver's seat, jiggling my non-functional automatic lock button for a little bit, then grabbed my purse, got out, and shut the door. I took about two steps twoard the mall and realized all was not well with the universe.
I turned around and looked, and there on the driver's seat were my car keys, safely locked away.
Okay, no problem. I called AAA on my cell phone, and sat on hold for a few minutes. Then the cell phone hung up. "Low battery", it said. I tried again, hoping I had just bumped a button with my cheekbone and my phone wasn't really dead. I got as far as the pre-recorded message telling me my call may be recorded for ensured quality, and it happend again. I flipped out a little bit, then stood there for a while trying to debate the merits of using a payphone over leaving my car in a large mall parking lot with the keys sitting out for everyone to see.
A Russian man pulled up, watched me for a bit, then offered to help. He asked me if I had something that sounded like "mirage". I told him I didn't know what he meant, and he doodled a coat hanger in the dust on top of my car. Aha. Consider my Russian vocabulary expanded. I told him no thanks, I'm going to call AAA now.
So I used the pay phone in the mall, and was told the AAA truck would be there in 1/2 an hour. Sure enough, exactly half an hour later, the guy shows up. This made my day, because he was really cute. So he messes around with one tool for a bit, then switches to another tool called a "wonder tool" (I kid you not. It looked like a coat hanger's bigger, meaner cousin) and used it to hit the auto lock. Which, lo and behold, WORKED.
So that was spiffy. I stuck my head in, grabbed my keys and thanked him. I was musing over asking him for his number while he jiggled the tool around for a bit when he said, "Shit". This meant the wonder tool had turned into the "I wonder how we're going to get it out of the door panel" tool. After another half an hour of growling and cussing, he told me I'd have to drive out to the body shop to have the tool extracted.
I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I figured it was rude to make him stand out in the sun trying to free it or to just drive off, never to be seen again, with a handy door-opener stuck in my passenger-side window, so I agreed to follow him to the body shop, which turned out to be several miles out of the way.
We arrived, and the gentlemens' co-workers quickly showed up to dismantle the bottom of my door, remove the tool, and laugh at the poor fellow. One of the guys informed me that since they had been at fault, if I wanted to wait they would wash my car. Considering my car had a ton of dust caked on it (minus the coat hanger-shaped spot on my roof), I agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, my car was returned to me almost frighteningly shiny, and I was off. I stopped by the mall again to do the shopping I had intended to do two and a half hours previous. This included looking for a new battery for my traitorous POS phone.
Long story short on that one, I was told my phone was too old for the company to care about anymore. So... I can only replace my phone once every two years, but its' parts become obsolete after one and a half? That's charming.
Hey, Verizon! Can you hear me now? KISS MY LILLY WHITE ASS.
But the guy was hot, and liked me. So today was good.
After that, I drove to the nearby mall. I sat in the driver's seat, jiggling my non-functional automatic lock button for a little bit, then grabbed my purse, got out, and shut the door. I took about two steps twoard the mall and realized all was not well with the universe.
I turned around and looked, and there on the driver's seat were my car keys, safely locked away.
Okay, no problem. I called AAA on my cell phone, and sat on hold for a few minutes. Then the cell phone hung up. "Low battery", it said. I tried again, hoping I had just bumped a button with my cheekbone and my phone wasn't really dead. I got as far as the pre-recorded message telling me my call may be recorded for ensured quality, and it happend again. I flipped out a little bit, then stood there for a while trying to debate the merits of using a payphone over leaving my car in a large mall parking lot with the keys sitting out for everyone to see.
A Russian man pulled up, watched me for a bit, then offered to help. He asked me if I had something that sounded like "mirage". I told him I didn't know what he meant, and he doodled a coat hanger in the dust on top of my car. Aha. Consider my Russian vocabulary expanded. I told him no thanks, I'm going to call AAA now.
So I used the pay phone in the mall, and was told the AAA truck would be there in 1/2 an hour. Sure enough, exactly half an hour later, the guy shows up. This made my day, because he was really cute. So he messes around with one tool for a bit, then switches to another tool called a "wonder tool" (I kid you not. It looked like a coat hanger's bigger, meaner cousin) and used it to hit the auto lock. Which, lo and behold, WORKED.
So that was spiffy. I stuck my head in, grabbed my keys and thanked him. I was musing over asking him for his number while he jiggled the tool around for a bit when he said, "Shit". This meant the wonder tool had turned into the "I wonder how we're going to get it out of the door panel" tool. After another half an hour of growling and cussing, he told me I'd have to drive out to the body shop to have the tool extracted.
I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I figured it was rude to make him stand out in the sun trying to free it or to just drive off, never to be seen again, with a handy door-opener stuck in my passenger-side window, so I agreed to follow him to the body shop, which turned out to be several miles out of the way.
We arrived, and the gentlemens' co-workers quickly showed up to dismantle the bottom of my door, remove the tool, and laugh at the poor fellow. One of the guys informed me that since they had been at fault, if I wanted to wait they would wash my car. Considering my car had a ton of dust caked on it (minus the coat hanger-shaped spot on my roof), I agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, my car was returned to me almost frighteningly shiny, and I was off. I stopped by the mall again to do the shopping I had intended to do two and a half hours previous. This included looking for a new battery for my traitorous POS phone.
Long story short on that one, I was told my phone was too old for the company to care about anymore. So... I can only replace my phone once every two years, but its' parts become obsolete after one and a half? That's charming.
Hey, Verizon! Can you hear me now? KISS MY LILLY WHITE ASS.
But the guy was hot, and liked me. So today was good.