Three segments of driving today. Three times I needed to start my car and face what gremlins and destruction and loss of freedom my car would throw at me. At least I'm armed to the teeth to fight back against its temperamental alter egos -- oil, transmission fluid, coolant, my brother's height stick, and funnels. And unbeknownst to my car, I put them all in the back of it. It's like I'm using itself against itself!
I woke up this morning at 6 because I had to get to the Vikings game by 7. I check underneath and ... what do my eyes fall upon? Are there now two puddles? Couldn't be, the second is an oil slick from the time I parked the car a few inches more to the left. Besides, I had to get to work. I did, however, go through on my plan to toss some more oil into the engine before I left. For the life of me I have no idea how much is in there, whether it's enough, or whether there's too much.
But it drives fine ... well, until I hit downtown, where I get the fucking dreaded "second sound" again. First time I hit a red light I hear this accompanying noise to the engine. Hope it's not serious, which of course means it is.
I was given a free pass to park right across from the street from the Dome. It's in a ramp, so many of the spaces are tilted. I remember that parking it nosing down on a hill spills less oil (or at least less oil that hits the ground, which means it may not be much of a difference), so that's how I want to position my car. But the ramp is pitched so high that finding level spaces, let alone nose-down ones, are scarce. On the other hand, I planned on putting some tranny fluid in my car before driving out after the game, just because. Maybe getting a level space is best. Oh, who cares, let me just get one that doesn't tip my car any which way more than 45 degrees. So even though nearly all of the spaces are available because the game wouldn't start for another five hours, I find one that's only slightly nose-up.
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Two segments of driving left. No, wait. The car is driving fine -- no loud cranking sounds, no shift hesitation, no gushing leaks underneath -- my "job" at the U.'s MRI center doesn't start till 6, and I haven't been to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) in a long time. You know what? I'm going. Won't get a dance, therefore I will still be under my $14-or-so daily budget of spending money. So yeah, three segments of driving left.
Waling back to the car I see a mess down there -- not a big one, but a shallow one, and a conspicuous one, too. Moreover, it looks like it didn't come down from just one place, but two. Oh, fuck.
I thought about skipping the stripclub after I felt my energy drop at some point during the game. Maybe I should just take a nap in the passenger seat before going to my other job. I won't be able to fall asleep in the tube because the guy will make me hold my breath the whole time. But then I knew I would be worried about the car, specifically propping up the hood. It has hydraulics that are completely shot; I haven't changed them out, and so I'm using a measuring stick my brother made when he was in pre-Kindergarten. But you never know; maybe I would try to put the transmission fluid in because of this mess I saw, but somehow the pitch and/or yaw of the car would knock the stick off from under the hood, and the hood would fall on the back of my head and break my neck. What a way to go.
I thought about all of that when I tried napping in the car anyway, and yes, I gave up after ten minutes. And instead of doing something under the car, I just went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) and decided to do it on their level pavement.
I'm glad I went. I saw ******e, a fat chick whom I showed my dick to. Wanted to talk to her, but she was there with her boyfriend/sugar daddy. Hope to see her again -- and show her my dick again.
The waitress-cum-stripper working as a waitress that day, ***i, was there, too, and we could finally clear the air as to why she unfriended me from facebook. It was because I had friended so many models and liked too many of their pictures, and she has a daughter who might see those in the second degree (clicking on her page, then clicking on mine). It's not because she was offended, and that makes all the difference. I totally understand. I just couldn't stay away from liking hot girls' pics after facebook shut down my Unforgivable Wetness account. I might need to do something about that.
Saw ***a for the first time in a long time. Wanted to tip her, but 1) I didn't have enough singles and 2) I got caught up finishing ***i's game at those barside machines, you know? Oh well, after ***a got done with her stageset she came up to me, gave me a hug, and wished me luck at work that night. Ah. ...
I then saw ****i for the first time in a long time -- Korean-looking chick with baggy eyes but tremendous (fake) boobs. She referred to me as her "brother from another mother." I wish she wouldn't say that, seeing as, you know, she rolled up her Adrian Peterson jersey to show off said boobs. I heard ****i once did one of ***i's parties. I would totally take out my dick for her if shed. Totally.
And then there was ********e, who may not be the prettiest dancer in the world but one I could actually carry a conversation with. She was totally geeking out over the Vikes' win. Me too! Weird how the sexiest stripper in the room is the one most people wouldn't think is hot-looking. Who cares, fuck that.
And then I left during shift change. While I was hauling out the tranny fluid from the trunk, a taxi came to the front door and the passenger door opened. And as I was minding my own business, I heard a woman go, "Hey!" I look up and see a really hot girl go, "How are you doing?" I didn't recognize her until she took off her hat. "Oh!" I said, "That's the ***i** I saw on the board and wondered if the name sounded familiar." I felt bummed to tell her I had to go, but at least she said hello. And just before I drove off another of the next wave of girls, *****y walked past. She looked nothing like what she does on-stage, but her face gave her away. We exchanged smiles and pleasantries.
One big problem. When I looked under the hood, the stains that I saw in one place in the car now appeared in another one, on the radiator. There might be another leak, or a leak is getting so bad it's starting to spray all over the machinery in there. Fuck my life. This is going to cost so much I might as well drop it off at the mechanic and leave it there.
But I started my car and it sounded fine. "Second sound" near the end on my way to the U.
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Two segments left.
Hopping out the car I look back. And it's the damndest thing, but I already saw a drop from the car ... and it was in this new spot, on the left side of the car and further towards the front. I dab my finger and determine it's oil, not transmission. The puddles underneath are always the brown from oil. So if I had trouble with the transmission going dry, where is all that fluid going? Oh, by the way, I also saw drops from the usual spot from the car forming a puddle underneath mere seconds after I turned off the car.
Felt bad this MRI session because I was supposed to not only hold my breath during some scans but also do the opposite, breathe free and easy. But I think "free and easy" to me is shallow breathing, like I'm waiting for someone to ambush me. And apparently that was a problem, because the researcher I was working for was trying to scan me as I regularly breathed in and out. I thought he wanted big breaths, but I just don't do that, I guess. Meanwhile, he said that the Denver Broncos-Pittsburgh Steelers game on the piped-in radio was enrapturing me so much it was throwing my breathing pattern off, so he turned it off. I think it may have pushed back what he wanted to measure so much he didn't finish in time. Finally, the two plates on my hips were so heavy, and the foam I was lying on in this room was so thin, that my back killed me.
It was 11:30 by the time I left (it was scheduled to end at 10, but fuck it, I need the money). It was too dark to check for leaks. I just was anxious as fuck to see if it would start without me needing to fortify the car.
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One segment left.
It started fine. Maybe a nanosecond later than I would be happy with, but I think that's just my paranoia talking. The turning felt kind of late, as did the steering. But the huge sounds and shift trouble were long gone. Maybe I have overfilled it? I have no fucking idea; I looked at the dipstick and it says it's been full every single time. My eyes deceive me, or I can't believe what I see.
Whatever. There was a huge "second sound" on the way home after it drove virtually all the way home without incident, but finally, after 72 hours of wondering if the car was going to make it, it did, and without any major problems after pouring in all kinds of shit into it. Now I don't have to turn that thing on until I drive it to the mechanic around the corner Tuesday.
Unless of course my parents insist we use my car to take them to the airport, at which case I not only have to check all the fluid levels again but also get gas too. Fuck my life. ...
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