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‘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.
