Tow Truck Adventures

"Alright, I'll get your car loaded up.  You can chill in the truck if you want."
He was about 5 feet tall, Asian, and he talked like he was from the streets.
"What street you live on?"
"E Street."
"A Street?"
"E Street."
"Oh D street."
"N-"
"Yea, alright, so uh, there's the heater, and you can like mess with it or whatever," and he chuckled a bit.  "Cuz you know, I know how it is."

Okay, first of all, E STREET!
Second, now I know where the term Blasian comes from.
And finally, no, I have no idea if you know how it is, because I'm not even sure I'm clear on how it is.

But it was certainly an adventure.

My evening began when I got to work and coolant was leaking from under my car.
I let Carlos know, I bought some water, poured it into my empty coolant reserve tank, started the car, which sounded fine, and planned to drive it home after work.

Carlos texted me that our mechanic said, after hearing about my story, not to drive the car home.

Well, here I was all proud of myself for carrying water in my car, ready to pull off and refill if needed, prepared to blog all about how I am a superwoman who can handle her own car troubles.

Cut to me halfway home with a temperature gauge tipping into the red zone and steam coming from under my hood as I pull to the side of the freeway off ramp.  At 1030 at night.  In Oakland.  With a mini-thug serving as my hero in the strangest, most futuristic tow truck I've ever been in, complete with a pack of Marlboro Reds in the dash and in the cup holder a bottle of some liquid that said in big, bold letters across the back of the label:  CONTAINS NO JUICE.  Well alrighty then.

Come to find out, my engine is probably shot.  Today may very well have been a farewell to my little Volvo.  She has been good to me, traveling up and down the California coast, and dutifully pulling herself back together after some rough patches.  But I think this may be it.  Her heart may have finally given out.

And while I am sad to possibly be saying goodbye to a car that I did really like, for some reason I'm not worried at all about being without a car.

I have no money in savings, I have a painful amount of debt, and I have a job to get to that is completely inaccessible via public transportation despite being only 15 miles from my house.  I have groceries to buy, errands to run, a toddler to transport.

But in reality, I figure I'll find a way to get to work, be it zip cars or rental cars.  I'll share Teno's car and Carlos' car when I need to.  I already walk and bike whenever possible, so I'll just increase that (hmm maybe lose a few pounds in the process?).  And I'll find the fun in it.  I have been without a car before, and yes, it can get very annoying after a while, but I'm not desperate, and I'm not without resources if I become desperate.

What is interesting to me is that every extraordinary occurrence of late, every possible adventure like the one tonight, now instantly becomes an idea for writing.

"Oh, I can blog about fixing my car while also tutoring a student prepping for the SAT this Saturday."
"Hey, now I can blog about wanting to have blogged about fixing my car but instead ending up blogging about this funny little tow truck man."
"Ooooooh, no car, what can I do with this turn of events.........?"

In truth, it is beginning to seem as though, while I definitely write about what I think and do, I am now more incentivized to think and do things in different ways in the hope of writing about them.  Then, while writing about my thoughts and experiences, I think about new ways to approach different tasks or new ideas for future projects.

It has all gained quite a bit of exciting momentum.

But now I'm home safe, an hour past my normal late night schedule, and destined to do nothing else but sleep for a few hours.

Thanks, Joe the Tow Guy.  Thanks.