Saturday, October 4, 2008

Always Somethin' Needs Fixin'

1996 Saturn
(Andy always parks his car
on the lawn of his Milwaukee estate!)


“Hey, Dad.”


It was Andy, greeting me at the beginning of a voice-mail message he left for me while I had my phone on mute during my workshop presentation in Fennimore.


“I’m coming home this weekend,” he announced. “I have a class until 12:30 tomorrow,” he added, leaving me to figure out the rest of his schedule for the day.


With a follow-up question in mind, I called him as I walked back to my car. All I could do, though, was leave him a voice-mail message in return.


I didn’t ask him how firm his schedule was and whether or not there’d be time to schedule a last-minute appointment for an oil change at Jim’s BP, our usual destination for servicing the cars.


As it turned out, he didn’t show up at the house until after 4:00, so an oil change was out of the question. That’s why I spent 20 minutes earlier this morning parking my butt in the lounge of the local Jiffy Lube, as Jim provides only emergency service on the weekends. The Jiffy Lube service guy, of course, made his usual pitch for additional maintenance work. After inviting me into the service bay, he pulled out the Saturn’s dipstick, as if it were something new to my eyes, to show me how dirty the oil was.


“You must have really let things go beyond the recommended oil change time,” he noted.


“It’s been 4,000 miles,” I said evenly, a calculation I had made, before backing out of the driveway, when I looked at the sticker from the previous oil change on the upper left-hand corner of the windshield.


“You might want to consider an engine flush,” he advised. “And your windshield wipers look pretty worn.”


Surprisingly, even though the air filter had been removed and displayed prominently on the engine block, he didn’t offer to replace this item. From past visits, I’ve learned that the air filter is always in need of replacement. Funny how that is.


“Just the oil change today, please,” I replied, making a slight turn in the direction of the lounge, as if to say our conversation had ended.

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