A Series of Unfortunate Automotive Events

Nick was kind enough to give me a ride two blocks down the street to the Pep Boys that had been the original destination, after which I thanked him & he disappeared off into the ether from whence he'd arrived.

Let's take stock. I've pretty much figured out what's wrong. Now I just need to get the car to somewhere that can fix that. Except it won't move. I explain all of this to the guy, & he lets me know that PepBoys does towing now. In fact, PepBoys charges a flat $59.99 ('cause we wouldn't want to round) to tow your car to any PepBoys – it seems his own dad had taken advantage of that fact when his car broke down in Calabasas one day & his dad had them tow him to Monrovia. That's no small distance, people. Which meant, for me, the girl that was presently 20 miles from her house, that I had two options :

1. I leave the car where it was, have that PepBoys work on it tomorrow (they wouldn't have time today) and still have to get my arse back out there tomorrow to pick it up.
2. Heartily abuse the PepBoys system to be towed to the PepBoys nearest my house in Westwood some 20 miles away - - the tow company wouldn't like me, but I could at worst rollerblade over to pick up my car tomorrow.

Note: At this point, the writing is halting so that the author can go get herself a glass of red wine. I'm just sayin'.

I call the tow company, make the arrangements, & am driven back to my car with the instructions that when I get to the PepBoys in Westwood, I'm to ask for a ride back to my house from there using one of the pickups they have to get parts. Hey man, that's good for me – After all, once I get back to LA, I've still got myself, my dog, and a couple bags from Wal Mart - including a 20 lb bag of dog food – to get back to my apartment. Free ride!

My car! I'm back at my car that doesn't work with my dog who wants to know why we're not on our way home. Sorry Zoey, I'm workin' on it. Get an automated phone message from the towing system that they'll be there in an hour. What? I call up the tow line, get told that's “the national average” and manage to squeeze the direct line to the tow company out of the girl. Call them & find out that yes, it'll definitely be an hour 'cause of their call queue. Okay, you know what? Now I don't feel that bad about the flat rate for a 20 mile tow. I really don't.

There's nothing I can do but sit for an hour & wait. I have nothing in the car to amuse myself – no books, nothing. I was just going to go to WalMart & come back, after all – 'cause hey, I'm supposed to be at work parking cars at 6! ::sigh:: I do, however, have the pre paid calling card pin on me so that I can call Anya on the weekends & not pay int'l charges on my cell phone. (Buy a calling card – you're on free weekend minutes, so you can call anywhere anyway. Dial the number for the calling card, you're paying their rates, not the cell int'l rates because the original call was to an 800#. Oh yeah, it's a great way to screw the phone company.) Bitch about my car to Anya until my minutes run out. Crap. Now what? Well, the car needed cleaning anyway, and I've got a couple extra shopping bags in the car. (all dog owners do) Cleaned out all the paper from my car, regretted that I didn't have any glass cleaner, since hey – I've got a package of paper towels & the time.

Tick.

Tick.

Remember to call Spiffy!Hotel, let Casey know I won't be in tonight. Check.

Tick.

Bored.

Tick.

I'm compulsively productive, and I can't get anything done right now...tra la la...

Tick.

Tick.

Closet Buffyholics' not answering her phone...

Tick.

Tick.

TICK

oh for fuck's sake...