Sunday was another magnificent day here in the desert; a few low clouds and about 70 degrees outside yet I spent most of it INSIDE.
We had daughter Christy over to the condo to share a delicious dinner Linda had prepared then we all plopped down on the couch to digest and watch the NFL playoffs.
“You know how lucky you are, don’t you, that that the women in your life don’t mind watching football?” Christy said.
I do realize it, of course, but neither of them is all that interested unless it’s Minnesota or Arizona playing.
As exciting as the Packers-Cardinals game was, both Linda and Christy had to take several breaks from the game to sit out on the patio to enjoy their wine.
Christy and Linda enjoy a few moments away from the football game.That’s our little home away from home in the back.We won’t be straying too far from our place today either.
I drove my sputtering ol’ red Lincoln to the garage early this morning and left her in the hands of strangers wearing mechanic’s coveralls. I now am completely at their mercy and feeling incredibly vulnerable.
“Yeah, Mr. Lund..this is Stiffy over at Mike’s Repair. We ran the computer codes on that car of yours and it looks like you’ve got a busted exhaust linkage and a faulty valve train dispenser. We put it up on the sky hook and found an oil leak from the transmission differential case. You’re probably looking at 18 hundred bucks and a couple days. Would you like us to go ahead and fix those things?”
“You’ll just have to believe that they’re honest people,” my naïve little, always optimistic, ever trusting wifey says.”
But what does she know about cars and the ethics of mechanics who, like doctors, possess the god-like power to heal and you don’t?
I often tell the story of when Linda had car trouble one day. She managed to limp into a garage and told the guy that it just keeps killing on her.
“Go ahead and have a cup of coffee at the café next door,” he said. “I’ll check out what’s wrong and let you know.”
Before she had finished her second cup..the mechanic walked in.
“Well, what’s the story?” Linda said.
“Ah, no big deal,” he said. “Just crap in the carburetor.”
“Oh really?” Linda said.
“How often do I have to do that?”
“I’ve told that joke quite a few times, often when Linda is in the audience, and she always laughs along.
I’m a lucky guy.
I just hope Ol’ Red’s problem is as simple as crap in the carburetor.
Oh, wait..it doesn’t have a carburetor.
