Car maintenance is one of those attention-to-detail aspects of my life that I really could do without. While for the most part I am self-sufficient as an independent woman, there are some things I wish I could delegate to a teammate, and car maintenance is near the top of the list. I realize it is important and I should know things, but really it just doesn't stick. I try to pay attention when someone explains or shows me something, but, entirely against my will, my eyes glaze over and I just cannot make myself care.
On Saturday this weekend Mom, Dad and I pulled out our cross-country skis for this season's virgin run through the forest preserve. My down snow vest was in my trunk in case of emergencies, so after brushing all the snow off I unlocked the trunk. However, despite all of my pulling, prying, grunting, and moaning, I could not get the trunk open. It was frozen shut! I called Dad to help me, but he couldn't get it open either. I resigned myself to other snow clothes and went on my way. Skiing was beautiful, by the way.
Sunday as I was warming up the car to drive back to Chicago, Dad threw a shovel-full of snow on my windshield as a parting gift. I tried to clear the snow using my windshield wipers, and realized then that I needed new ones. Streaks would be a generous term for how my wipers cleared (or rather, didn't clear) the windshield. The driver's side had one streak just at eye level, and the passenger's side didn't clear at all. Since it was clear that day, I sighed, waved goodbye and started on my journey. All was well until I got on the highway. My vision grew more and more obscured as one after another cars all around me threw up dirt and splatter from the road. My wipers were worthless.
The situation became urgent, and I decided I needed to purchase some new wipers STAT. I exited, pulled in to Target, and circled the lot several times looking for a space. Finally found one, bee-lined into the auto section, proudly looked up my make/model, grabbed the correct wipers and got in line. There were only 2 people in front of me, but the checker was so slow that I waited for 20 minutes listening to the deadbeats behind me pontificate about child support. Finally to the front of the line, one of the deadbeats started exclaiming about my wiper and how much it cost, but upon further inspection said, "oh, but it's only one.." WHAT??
I got out of line, went back, got the other stupid wiper, got back in line, waited, checked out, returned to my car and started trying to install a new one. Cars desperate for my parking space waited with their blinkers on, but I was going nowhere fast. I couldn't figure out the wiper installation and, feeling peer pressure, finally decided I would just make it home and figure it out later. Back in the car it started to snow, but I could see enough. Just as I came around the corner of my street, relieved to have finally made it home, my trunk, finally thawed out, popped open.
If anyone would like to volunteer for the job of Caitlyn's car care-taker, I would be much obliged. If not, sorry Dad, you're stuck with the job.
