Driving Miss Deya

I've been reading all my old postings and in order to dispute a certain rumor (I am only funny when I'm sick), I felt the need to write something. I'm going to share a story about a friend. We will call her Jane. No, it is not really me, you'll see why and if you are reading this and your name really is Jane, I'm sorry I used your name and it's nice to meet you since I really don't know anyone named Jane. All disclaimers out of the way now? Oh wait, "Jane" I am sorry, but it had to be done and as good of a friend as you are, I don't think you read this anyway. Guess we'll see...mwuhahaha (is that how you would phonetically spell an evil laugh?!?)

As I mentioned before, Chris' car went to the shop to get a little work done. Let's start with a shout out for extended warranties! Woo Hoo!!!!!!! So, I'm talking to Jane about the CRV's little excursion to the dentist and she asks me a funny question: "Do you know how often you are supposed to change your windshield wipers?"
Immediately I ask Chris, my friendly in-home mechanic, who answers: "every 6 months." (you didn't know that either, did you?)
"Ok, I didn't know that!"
"So, what's the big deal? When did you change them last?"
"I didn't know you were supposed to change them!"
"You've never changed them....ever?!?!"
" (in a timid almost whimpering voice..) No."
"So, the whole time you've had the car, you've never changed them?!?! (Even I know you have to do it when it quits wiping the rain off the windshield. otherwise, what's the point?) When did you get your car then?"
"Um...2004?"

Ladies, this is why men make fun of women drivers. Men, we get it, don't say it, just smile and nod. In Jane's defense, I had to share with her a story exhibiting my own ignorance in car maintenance which I know my father will never forget and Lake, if this happened on your mission...sorry about your car. :)

To start out with, let me say that I got 100% on my written driver's ed exam. 100 freaking percent. The actual driving test, we won't discuss, but I still claim it's not my fault I didn't want to hit the squirrel and that I was emotionally traumatized for the rest of the test. In high school Lake and I shared a 1988 white hard-top Jeep Wrangler. The key word for this story is '88. If you are currently driving an '88 automobile, props to you for keeping it running this long as we are all about to learn that I couldn't have accomplished such a feat. So I am driving along, taking some stupid short cut by the train yards in the not-so-friendly part of town and smoke starts coming out of the engine. I am smart enough to know this is not good, so I pull over. As a pull over there is an exploding sound right before the engine dies. Not good. Let me just clarify that this was a time before cell phones. Yes, try and think hard, there was a time before cell phones. So I analyze the situation and try and figure out my best options. There are no other drivers on the road, period. One side of the road is a cliff-shaped lava rock wall. The other side is a cemetery. Yes, a graveyard. If only this happened in the night time, I could have made a fortune on my cheesy horror flick story rights. Behind me, I passed the train yards. Not wanting to get picked up by a scary vagabond (if you are reading this and have ever at any point in your life been a vagabond, I am not slamming you, I have great respect for what you did, I just know I am a weakling and could not live the life you led) I decide to walk forward. Eventually in the distance, I spot this creepy dirty diner next to an abandoned gas station. Think Corner Gas in Hell. So I venture into the diner. There is not a house phone that I may use (which I still think was a lie), but there is a pay phone. That would be great if I had any coins. A nice truck-driver man took pity on me and tossed me a quarter. After a short and panicked conversation with my dad, he agrees to come pick me up. I walked back to the car as I sadly felt safer there, next to the decomposing bodies than in the diner. Once Dad shows up, not less than angry, we had this conversation:
"Deya! You are out of oil! Why didn't you change it!?!?!"
"The light didn't come on."
"The what?!?!"
"The light on the dashboard that tells me to change my oil never came on."
"...(slight reddening of the face and glaring of the eyes)...."
"That's what I learned in Driver's Ed. The light will come on when you need to change the oil, and it didn't come on yet. So how was I supposed to know when to change the oil?"
"...(at this point I can tell he is trying to talk himself out of strangling me)..Well, Deya, how many miles have you driven since your last oil change?"
"Um, last..oil change....? The light never came on, Daddy."
Despite what Lake thinks, there are a few times when I cannot get away with murder by wrapping my arms around Dad's neck and saying, "Daddy, I love you!" Costing him a new engine in the Jeep would be one of those times.