I got my car back.
To my untrained eye, that fifteen-year-old Beetle convertible looks like new.
To the wonderful guy who worked on it, it has a way to go. He says most of the
work is done but we’ll keep fixing this, that, and the other until we get it
where we (read he) wants it. This is a young man who has his own shop, builds
and restores cars, only takes on jobs like mine if somebody he knows recommends
it. Fortunately, a neighbor who’s a real car buff recommended me.
Kyle found three
squirrel nests—in the fenders and evidence they tried to get into the hood—and
something you don’t want to know about in the back seat. The black spots on the
finish, he tells me, were fungus working its way into the paint—he’s gotten rid
of the fungus and put on a clear protective coating that lasts five years. He’s
educated me—what they use on the interior in most car washes deteriorates the
leatherette or plastic, so I will not run it through an automatic wash—I’d
stopped that anyway because I figured those brushes weren’t good for the top.
My car has wheel
locks—who knew? And of course, I haven’t a clue where the key is. With a VW you
have to get everything from the dealership, so I will buy new non-locking lugs
from them. But Kyle will find a bar to remove the old locks without my leaving
a hundred-dollar deposit at the dealership.
This car detail
wasn’t cheap—but it, like the repairs I had done a year ago, beats buying a new
car. I’ve thought about this and decided that for people like my kids, who
trade cars every five years or so, such detailed care isn’t necessary. But it
is if I want to baby an elderly car along until, someday, it will be a
collector’s item. VW is apparently not going to make any more of the Beetle
convertibles.
Our electric gate
across the driveway is fixed, and I now know where the reset button is if it
gets stuck (I’ve only had it fifteen years or so). I feel much more secure at
night with that gate closed, and I’m grateful to Lewis Bundock, who has kept my
house in good shape for twenty-five years. He fixed the gate in five seconds
first thing this morning.
I picked up new
pills for Sophie from the vet. She still sounds like she has a stuffy nose, but
I don’t hear the wet breathing I did. The pill loosened up things apparently,
with some side effects that created cleaning chores for me.
I retrieved my
debit card from the restaurant without incident.
My hearing aid is
fixed, sort of, and I have had a lesson in cleaning. I had that lesson before,
but the aids were new, and I guess it was all too much to take in. Now I’ll be
better about it. We’re experimenting with batteries and chargers to try to
determine why one aid kept losing its charge. I’ve had hearing aids for years,
but the big thing about these is that the phone talks directly to them, so I
can stop saying, “Pardon me?” Too often I lapsed into “Huh?”
I succeeded in
renting a huge house in the Hill Country for my family of sixteen for next
Christmas. We’ll all be under one roof with things like a pool table and foosball
to keep kids from getting bored. And maybe, just maybe, the adults can take
side trips to some wineries.
I promise (I
think) no more health reports but this last one. Yesterday I got the report on
blood work done the week before, and my anemia has improved greatly which
almost certainly erases the threat of the underlying disease the hematologist
was scaring me with and the possibility of an unpleasant procedure. Since I
feel better than I have in years, I did not take kindly to her comment that if
I had what she suspected I wouldn’t know it. I think she needs to work on her
bedside manner. I hereby declare myself healthy.
Tonight, German
hot potato salad—Christian’s favorite—with a new brand of sausage (called
kiolbasa). Christian waxed eloquent about the fact that I’ve been fixing this
dinner for him for almost twenty years. It’s a recipe I fiddled with to “improve”
it. I had sauerkraut with my potato salad—I’d seasoned it with caramelized
onions, brown sugar, and white wine. So good, but neither Jordan nor Christian
would try it, although he admitted it smelled good. I tried to point out that
he tried sugar snap peas for the first time recently and liked them and maybe
the same would be true. No sale.
Happy weekend
everyone!
No comments:
Post a Comment