Dearest Rachel –
I didn’t expect to be writing you again so soon, to be honest, honey – it’s just a day of errands, when all is said and done, after all – but considering that my earlier letter pretty much ended with far too many words already and me still only making plans to head off to the gym (but clearly with plenty of time to do so in), I figured I’d fill you in on how everything went.
Let me start by saying that Sgt. Ducky had no idea of what he was talking about with regard to ‘having the gym all to yourself’ when you go there early – and he was talking about seven o’clock, as opposed to the five-thirty when I showed up. I mean, the place wasn’t jam-packed or anything, but there were at least a half-dozen others in the room at the same time I was at any given point, and maybe more at some. Then again, maybe the demographics are different in an American suburb as opposed to a place in semi-rural Ireland; certainly the demographics of the people there were different than at my usual time between two and four on a weekday afternoon. Rather than there being predominantly high-school athletes doing their reps in preparing their bodies for whatever sportsball competition they had upcoming, those at the gym this morning were a little bit more like myself – middle-aged men trying to fight the middle-age spread by getting in a bit of a workout before having to hop in the car (or on the train, if they worked in the city) too work. It’s possible that those latter folks don’t bother with exercise over in the Emerald Isle, for whatever reason. Then again, there may also be a difference between five-thirty and seven o’clock, too.
But I couldn’t still be there at seven o’clock; my auto appointment was only a little after eight, and I had to get showered, dressed and drive myself there by then. Which, admittedly, I had plenty of time to do.
And it’s at this moment I ought to point out why I was at the dealership – what’s the situation that I was there to take care of? Well… you might even remember how, on that fateful day, we had to stop at a gas station before getting on I-294 to head north to the camp where you and I would ultimately have to say goodbye, in order to get my tires inflated, as the idiot light had come on, indicating that the pressure was low in at least one of them. These days, this is happening with increasing frequency – about every month or so, depending on how often and how much I drive the car. After getting the tires topped off at a local quick lube joint that I frequent (so that therefore, they’re amenable to servicing my car gratis in this way), the mechanic pointed out that the wheel rim on my rear passenger side was cracked. Not only that, but the inflation valve is missing a cap, but that’s not nearly as significant a contributor to the situation as the cracked rim.
So last week, I finally broke down (if you’ll parson the expression) and made an appointment to have it looked at. I didn’t know what to expect; how long it was going to take to fix, how much it was going to cost. It certainly didn’t occur to me that I would be told I’d need to get a new tire for it, but when the tread was pointed out to me, I can’t say I was really all that surprised. After all, I’d been running on the entirety of the tire; it was bound to wear the whole thing out a lost faster than the others.
What I didn’t expect was that every car has a different rim, and since mine was now fifteen years old (well, I did get it used from Dad, and we’ve had it for quite some time since), they would have to scour the aftermarket for one, since the company no longer made those rims. And here I thought that part wouldn’t be any different from any other part of a car, with maybe a handful of different styles given the size or type of vehicle (you know, like a compact would have a different wheelbase than an SUV or a truck), but not that they would have specific styles for each model and year.
They told me they’d call me back if and when they found anything, so I could set up another appointment at a later date. Which was fine by me, but I imagine if I wasn’t in the position I was in, with effectively all the free time I needed, I might be a little put out by this situation. Then again, it’s not as if there was anything the dealership could have done about it to ameliorate the situation, so… it would have done me no good to get bent out of shape, even if my wheel rim was.
So, by nine o’clock in the morning, I was done with my ‘to-do’ list for the day. I even took the opportunity to pick up breakfast for Daniel and myself, as he was already up when I left for the dealership. For all that it mattered, I had already written off the day, and could have just stayed home.
But it so happens that, on Tuesdays, Daniel still listens to a livestream by one of those so-called prophets, and I wasn’t about to stick around for that. Given that the predictions that he’d made hadn’t come true by the end of last year (and, while so many things once dismissed as ‘conspiracy theories’ have, in fact, proven to be completely true, the fact that nothing has happened in terms of consequences for those that covered things up still has me convinced that nothing will ever come of them), I have no desire to listen to these folks blathering on about how His Orangeness will bring holy vengeance down upon the entirety of the peculiar species that is homo crotalus washingtonius.
Yeah, not going to happen, and I didn’t need to eat that whole egg to know it was rotten. But as I’ve had no luck convincing him of that, the best thing for me was to get out of Dodge. Maybe I could get a bit of ‘work’ done while I was over at the ‘office.’
I didn’t, really – apart from some more writing, both to you and to that teacher who’d responded to my previous essay to her – but I did get a tip on something to get for my dad for Fathers’ Day, along with a reminder that I needed to get a card for him, as well as for the cousin of mine that was getting married in a week and a half. So, while I’d finished one list of things to do, I’d basically swapped one list out for another. At least the new one wasn’t a long one.
So, at about half-past two, when I was getting a little bored, I decided to close up shop, and head out shopping. I turned off the machinery, hit the lights, bid good day to the folks, and drove off to the shop where Mom had given me the tip about… only to find the parking lot empty, and the doors locked.
Now, maybe they were closed because of the weather, but that seemed like a remote possibility. I looked up their website, which gave no indication of anything amiss – no 404 error, no note saying “thank you, Arlington Heights, for a wonderful however many years.” As far as I could tell, today should have been business as usual, except it wasn’t. I did send a email to their contact address, asking what was going on, but at this point, I’ve yet to hear anything – which would make sense if they’ve closed up for good or something. If it’s true, I guess I dodged a bullet by not buying him something that would be worthless in short order – but just in case it’s not, I’m going to have to check again some time later this week.
I did get the cards I meant to, so that’s one thing off the list. So that was the day, and I was just as happy to get home after being twice (well, okay, half again) as productive as I’d expected. I’m sure I could’ve done more, but you know, little victories and all that.
Anyway, I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow at some point. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 