A Love Story

I had my car in the shop the other day. It needed an oil change, and this was the first I could get it in. And worse, it had been making a weird noise and feeling sort of grindy at the front end. And it was getting worse.

I hate trying to explain that sort of thing to someone.

Well, the car feels grindy.

And you know the poor mechanic is trying to figure out what I'm saying, trying to translate it into language that makes sense in mechanic terms, and trying to figure out if I have any clue what the front end is, and if that's where the problem really is.

In all honesty, I'd sort of been putting off the whole thing. I could have gotten it in earlier, but I was afraid it would be really expensive, and all. And I'm pretty sure it was my fault the car was sounding grindy, since I slid it into a curb really hard last winter. And that's always embarrassing, in the sort of, hi, I'm an idiot who runs my car into the curb way. So I put it off.

It was expensive, but at least it was fixable. And it's really nice to have the car not making the grindy noise!

You know the movie LA Story? The scene where the Steve Martin character gets in his car to drive to the next door neighbor's house? I'm like that about cars. I know it's bad for the world, but I love driving. I didn't mind walking around all over in Japan, but when I have a car, yes, I drive. (Unless I'm biking. Maybe I just have mechanical love?)