My Esenapaj Rac
My dear, dear car. I feel I should send it a positive vibe from time to time. But it's not perfect. It wobbles just a bit more than I think is seemly when I drive over-well, too fast, and coughs when it feels a chill. I was informed with maximum sarcasm by Scott that these problems don't exist solely because my car has a catalytic converter. Apparently, a lot of them do. But unless I get a bunch of alarmed e-mails regarding these issues, I'm inclined to label them "acceptable eccentricities" and drive in bliss.
"Try starting it again."
"Try starting it again."
Not the same, right?
An eccentricity I
find less acceptable is my car's occasional failure to start as quickly
as it should. This has happened twice in the past few weeks, and I'm not
unwilling to admit that it could be my fault. Maybe should have given
it more gas at a vital moment, or revved with more enthusiasm than I did.
Anyway, with a little patience, it comes around and runs just fine.
Pat was in the car with me the first time this happened, and he seemed to instinctively understand the situation and waited patiently for its happy resolution. Perhaps just so I wouldn't take Pat for granted, I was in the second instance treated to "help" unhappily all too typical to persons of Pat's gender. Picture it: I was pulling out of a parking space outside of Blockbuster when my car stalled between R and 1. This was pretty embarrassing as it was a Friday night and lots of dateless types were renting videos and cruising for parking spots.
I was doing sort of auto whisperer therapy with my car when this weedy guy stops right behind me, runs over and indicates that I should roll down my window and prepare to receive some wisdom from him. His advice consisted of the phrases,
"Try starting it again,"
"Turn off the lights and radio" (they already were off),
"Give it some more gas," and
"Try starting it again."
Eventually, the car did start, and as this guy had been the one to tell me to "try again," he fairly glowed with pride at having rescued a helpless female.
Before he went back to his own car, which was poised to take my parking space as soon as I vacated it, he recommended I not smash into the SUV that just pulled out in front of me. Now, I've been informed that my attitude toward this encounter is rooted in female chauvinism and ignorance, and I'd be hard pressed to deny either allegation. So, let's here from the men of The Cobra's Nose (note to myself: calendar proposal?) readership: What would your reaction be to a female (and you aren't allowed to imagine Michelle Phieffer or somebody gorgeous in this role, in fact, nobody prettier than Kathy Bates) giving you automotive advice no more profound than "Try starting it again" and make gender based assumptions about whether you are driving a stick shift or automatic?
I mean it guys, let me know.
