I am sitting here at the stupid tire place waiting 30(!) minutes to have my dumb front tires looked at. The car tells me(!) that they have low pressure. There is a guy in here with a ringtone that sounds like a goat bleeting. Maahh, maahh!
Remember the days when cars didn't tell you things? You would just be driving around with a knocking motor because your oil was low and a bumpy car that pulled to the left because your tires were low and you needed an alignment. Or maybe that was just me.
And once, I was driving my friend Stacey's old Monte Carlo and when I went over the railroad tracks, the muffler fell off and rolled into oncoming traffic. In the bad part of town (not sure where I was going, probably had to do with a boy) so I continued to haul ass in North Tulsa and people were honking and trying to get my attention to tell me I had lost a muffler.
I actually didn't know what had fallen off but when I got back home, I told her and she looked under the car and said "YOU LOST MY MUFFLER??!!??"
And we had to go back and get it. Which wasn't scary at all.
Anywhoodle, it was as hot or hotter than it is right now (111 degrees)
In other interesting car news. The engine in my Suburban has to be rebuilt because it drinks oil like my sister drinks wine. Or beer. (hi Mel!)
I have been keeping a log book of how often it says "add oil" so the Chevy dealer could figure out the issue and there you go. I guess giving me a new one wasn't going to happen either.
And who is funnier than all these good ole boys who say "hot nuff fer ya?"
And my head hurts.
And it is the week of a thousand torturous events here in our town.
Oh, and Field and Stream and Sports Illustrated are the only magazines at this place.