‘Old School’ Jest
The young tow-truck driver laughed and bobbed his head excitedly in agreement. “I know! I know! I remember-“
I chuckled to myself as he continued his story, thinking — No, our ‘old school’ ideas are about thirty years off.
At least when I arrived home that day, transported by a tow truck instead of under the power of my own wheels, I laughed instead of complained about the disabled vehicle. I couldn’t grumble about the car breaking down. It was my own stupidity that put me in this situation.
For about a week, I’d been noticing an odd noise in the car that got louder. I told my better half, “I think I’m about to lose a belt.”
They came out and looked. “No, they all look fine. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
It turns out, neither of us are going to get the coveted ‘Home Mechanic Diagnostician of the Year Award’.
The next Friday was payday, and I was almost due for an oil change. I decided that when I left work Friday, I’d stop on the way home for an oil change and see if they could tell where the noise was coming from.
The day did not go according to plan.
Leaving work, a few miles down the freeway I began having difficulties steering — as in no power steering at all.
Drats! That must have been the odd noise.
My self-diagnosis mechanic kicked in again and I deduced that I’d blown a power steering unit. You can still drive without power steering I reasoned and kept going.
A few miles later I saw a red light had flashed on the dashboard — ‘Check gauges.’
Did I check the gauges? (Recall the previously mentioned role my stupidity played in this story?)
No. I did not check the gauges. Because I knew what the problem was. I’d blown my power steering unit.
By the time I turned the last corner to turn into the Walmart automotive center near our house, I cranked that steering wheel as hard as I could to navigate the corner. But I made it and with relief pulled into line. I was about the fifth car back.
As I sat there idling, I looked up and saw steam drifting out from underneath the edges of the hood. I glanced down at the dashboard — you know, to those gauges I should have checked miles back? The same time that my eyes lit on the heat gauge, and I saw it was pegged on ‘HOT’, a KA-BOOM exploded from underneath the hood.
You should have seen how fast those technicians can run! Three of them raced towards the car yelling at the top of their lungs. “Cut it OFF!”
It wasn’t pretty. I’d never blown a radiator before.
It turned out that I’d lost a belt after all, which powered the fan that cooled the radiator.
I wasn’t getting an oil change that day.
The mechanics pushed my now immobile car into a parking space, and I had the unexpected pleasure of finding out how good my insurance was. Within twenty minutes a tow truck was on the way so I could leave my newfound friends. (Secretly, I think they were relieved to see me go.)
With my car secured on the tow truck bed, I hopped in next to the jovial driver, who appeared to be even younger than my sons. He started to pull out of the lot, and I pointed to the right and launched into my ‘giving directions’ mode.
He laughed and motioned towards the GPS screen positioned on the center console. “I’ve got this.”
Feeling abashed, I grinned in response. “My, how times have changed.”
Memories flashed through my head of times before when I needed a tow truck in years long past. In those days, they didn’t come equipped with all the fancy technology that told the driver where I lived without me uttering a single word.
I started to share a few memories. “I remember a long time ago, when I had a flat tire or ran out of gas-“
He cut me off mid-sentence as his laughter filled the cab. He slapped his hand on his leg as a grin lit up his ebony face. “I know! I know! I remember those ‘old-school’ days. I remember when I had my first cell phone, and it was one of those old flip phones too.”
I hesitated before answering, mostly because I was fighting back my own laughter. “No…I was thinking of days even earlier than that…before cell phones even. Back in the day when if something happened you walked to find a phone booth. You hoped the phone would work when you found one. You prayed the whole time you had a dime in your pocket to be able to call.”
It’s been several years since my glorious uproar at the auto center. Since then, I’ve resigned from self-diagnosing automotive problems. I learned to start watching my gauges — even before the dashboard makes that demand. And I still laugh when the memories of that day cross my mind and I recall the tow truck drivers’ part of the conversation. That was my favorite part of the day — discovering that we all have different ideas about what’s ‘old school’ and what constitutes the ‘good old days.’
From A Daily Dose of Happy