Skating to the Dentist

I spent some three hours on Sunday on the phone with my dad. Some of it was about why he had called, some of it was about how to restyle all my shop photos and how to make them more attractive to buyers. By the end of this conversation, I decided I needed a tri-pod. Target FAILED ME, so I was like, "I'll got to REI. I know what I want is there."

So, Monday morning, I hopped in the Monstority, started him up, and backed out of the driveway. However, as I skatted on the ice, I realized there was a light still on in the dash. It looked roughly like this: (!) with a little swiggle line under it. I was like, "Huh?"

I drove around the block and pulled back into the driveway. I pulled out the manual and looked it up. I mistook it for something wrong with the breaks, as it looked a lot like the ((!)) which means breaks. There are three different symbols for the breaks. Since Pilot Boy told me to get the oil changed, I was like, "FINE! We'll go see the dealer!"

I called, made an appointment for the next day.

After I did this, I remembered I had to go pick up more plastic trays at the dentist. Now, since I still thought my breaks were shot, I decided to walk the few blocks to the dentist. I always feel like a slouth driving there, but half the time its 1) a hazard to my health to walk due to the conditions of our subdivion in the winter or 2) raining or 3) I have other errands to run after I go to the dentist. (I got to the dentist a lot here...it's like the eye doctor in the Dirt Hole, only I kinda like going to the dentist. THEY KNOW ME! The Eye Doctor in the Dirt Hole never seemed to remember me till he looked at my chart.)

So, I put on my fancy The North Face boots with little "ice picks" and took a very deep breath. I exited the house and stared at the ice rink that is my street.

It has been brilliantly sunny for weeks upon weeks and the sun here is intense. It might claim to be 20 out, but in the sun it'll be 40. So things MELT like WHOA. Kind of. A few weeks back, they "plowed" the street down to the layer of ice that fell during the ice storm that hit in....November? But, yeah, so they took away all trackton on the street and turned the street into an ice rink. One must be very talented to walk on the street. I could have used ice skates to travel from my house to the main road.

I stupidly thought once I skatted through the subdivison I'd be good to go on some cement or something, but NO. I guess when they "plow" the sidewalks along the main road, they just make more ice rinks, as the sidewalks were worst than my street. I carefully walked along, praying I would not fall down and break something.

I passed a guy RUNNING on the ice sidewalk. I was like, "HUH?"

He said good morning, so I said it as well, as I was simply impressed he was RUNNING on the ICE in TENNIS SHOES.

Later I told the lady who gave me my new plastic trays and she rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, there are some really crazy people here. My friend goes running every morning. Outside. On snow and ice."

I walked home and passed no more runners. And I managed not to fall.

Later, I took the Monstoirty to the Dealer.

There was a huge ass carpentry nail in the tire. It was HUGE. Almost as big as the screw I ran over in the Kar.

Also, the nice guy who took care of me at the dealer actually told me I DID NOT NEED MY OIL CHANGED. I was like WTF? WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN MY WHOLE LIFE?

Oil changes and I do not get along, as every time I go, no matter where I am, the guys who take care of me try to rip me off. Because I'm a girl they think I'm a moron. With the Kar, they used to tell me my oil was dirty. The first time it worked, because I honestly did not know. The second time, I knew better and they were seriously pissed off at me and would not leave me alone about my "dirty" oil. After that, when I had to get the oil changed, I made Pilot Boy drive the car in and act like it was his car. They never told him he had "dirty oil." I hated them, so I refused to get the oil changed. With my Poor Volvo, we only changed the oil twice. And the second time, it was changed when I took the car in because the TAKE CAR FOR SERVICE message had come on and it was annoying the shit out of me.

Granted, the time I took the Monstoriy in, they did not try to sell me anything extra, but this time the guy looked at me like I was insane when I told me about getting an oil change.

"YOu've got snyntheic oil right?
"Yes."
"You've only got 11,002 on this," he said.
"I know."
"Why do you want the oil changed?"
"My husband seemed to think we needed it. Its past it's three month mark."
"You've got syntheic oil. You won't get your moneys worth out of it if you change it now. You've got...at least 4,000 more miles to go."
"I figured," I replied.
"Tell your husband," he said.
I rolled my eyes. "He knows. I don't know why he wanted it changed."

I am serious. I know how the fake oil works. Pilot Boy has told me. Multiple times. He's also told me how traditional oil works, especially after they place ripped me off with the whole "dirty" oil thing the first time I took it to get changed.

Oil is always dirty, people. If its not brown, it's not doing its job.