Right. So I got time off for good behaviour, or to ensure future good behaviour, or because I'm going bat-shit crazy being in my house for the last month with those charming people who sprang from my loins.
That was a terrible sentence. You have my most sincere apologies.
I got some coffee, and went to the yarn shop, and visited an amazing art gallery that consigns all kinds of amazing handmade things... and the art gallery is interested in some of my sewing and knitting, which is very cool and very odd all at the same time.
On the way home, I noticed that the gas pedal didn't seem to be playing nice with the engine, which made me remember that the gas gauge had been fluctuating like crazy the entire day, and oh yes, by the way, the service engine idiot light was blaring. So naturally the mini
coopervan conked out whilst driving uphill where there was no actual place to pull off.
But fortunately, God really wanted me to enjoy my day, so He pushed the car about a quarter mile up the hill after it stalled and then further on down the road to a place where I could pull far away from the road and not die. True story.
We had the stupid vehicle towed to the local repair shop, who told me that my fuel pump had died and it would be in the neighborhood of $600 to get it fixed... half for parts and half for three hours of labour. So I called my girl Heather's husband, Nate the Hot Mechanic, and asked him what he thought about that, because he has been taking care of the vehicle for a while.
Nate said that there was no way it takes three hours to change a fuel pump in my van, and also that it is his experience as a Chevrolet mechanic that fuel pumps in Venture vans just do not ever get replaced. He told me about this little thing that is a part of the fuel system that sometimes does need to be replaced, and suggested I ask the garage if they had checked that.
Now, I had already told the garage people that the gas gauge had been bonkers all day, and that I suspected the thing was out of gas. OH NO!!!! they protested vigorously, and told me there was no way on earth my car was out of gas and that the little thingy was not a problem and that it was most assuredly the fuel pump and also pay.up.sucka.
Nate the Hot Mechanic had given me his price for fixing the fuel pump, if in fact it was the fuel pump, and his price was over $200 better than the garage. So I told the garage
they could suck it that we'd come pick up the van and tow it to Nate's garage. They offered to come down on the price of the labour, but I was not having any of that tomfoolery.
Nate pulled the little thingy from out of the fuel system, and sure enough, the little thingy had MAJOR bad stuff happening to it. There are technical terms for the situation, but major bad stuff will have to do for now. And also? Not a drop of gas in the tank.
So for CONSIDERABLY LESS than the thieving or incompetent, or incompetently thieving people at the Automotive Center on Market Street in Attica suggested, Nate the Hot Mechanic fixed my car. And he SHOWED THEM.
The Mister says I shouldn't call them and tell them off, but I still kind of want to.
Also, they were snippy and rude, and it was a good thing I had put my big girl pants on.
I bought Nate a bag of peanut butter cups because he's totally a peanut butter cup junkie, and because he's awesome. And my girl Heather knows that he is Nate the Hot Mechanic, and she knows that we all know he's Nate the Hot Mechanic, and she is okay with it. In fact, she's more than okay with it. She likes it a lot. And so does Nate.
Me? I just like that I have good friends who can keep me away from people who are incompetent and out to screw us. Anybody else have that kind of awesomesauce in their lives?