Dearest Rachel –
I should probably mention that to a large extent, this isn’t really my story to tell; much of what happened here happened to Daniel, and I’ve only gotten the bare bones of it all. Which is part of the reason I’m writing you about it, since Daniel isn’t going to say much about it. And I don’t blame him; this can’t exactly be considered to be his finest hour, though it’s more from inattention and ignorance than willful error. To his credit, it’s not as if he tried to conceal anything from me (and therefore, if you were still here, it’s not as if he wouldn’t tell you what had happened); it’s just that he didn’t recognize what was going on as it was unfolding nor, once it did dawn on him, did he know what to do and where to go to begin the process of remedying the situation.
For my part, the day went essentially as normal for one in which I was meeting Lars for our usual walk (apart from an appointment with our broker for a regular portfolio checkup, as opposed to putting in an hour or so at the ‘office.’ Considering that such a review usually concludes with the acknowledgment that we’re outperforming the market, and no major changes need to be made, I wonder if it’s not a waste of time for the both of us. Still, I suppose he feels the need to give the account sufficient attention to justify the commission he gets for managing it; it’s a fraction of a percent, to be sure, but for what appears to be a few hours’ work throughout the year, it is, as the saying goes, nice if you can get it). We made our way up as far as Willow Road – a round trip exceeding eight miles, one of our longest yet – and headed out to one of our usual favorites for gyros. And that’s when I found out things were going sideways on Daniel’s end.
You see, since Lars and I have such a late lunch together, that left Daniel to fend for himself for meals for the day. While our boy isn’t generally all that concerned about what he will eat like I can be, he doesn’t go entire days without remembering to eat as often as he used to. Full credit to him; he will take the car out on his own, without prompting and get himself something to eat.
Well, while he was heading out yesterday – at roughly the same time that Lars and I were eating as well – he noticed that the car was riding rather roughly. The way he described it was “as though I were a taxiing plane.” Now, the trip to the two places – he generally gets a sandwich from one place and a smoothie from another a couple doors down – isn’t that far, barely a couple of miles, so he decided to check it out when he got where he was going. When he did, he found that the rear passenger tire was completely flat, and the rear driver’s side tire was pretty low, as well. So he decided to contact me about it via text, adding an apology – which I didn’t consider to be necessary, as it’s essentially his car now, and any costs to repair it would be borne by him.
In any event, there happens to be a tire place at the opposite corner of this area that we refer to as ‘the triangle,’ and so I suggested that he try to limp the car there to have them look at it; if the tire(s) needed to be replaced in extremis, that would be the place to go. The trouble is, I didn’t get a response from him for the next half hour; I had no idea what had happened, or what he tried to do. Even calling him got no response. Lars tried to walk me through the ‘find phone’ function in order to locate Daniel’s phone (and thereby Daniel), with little success; all he managed to do was to link his phone to mine, so now I know where Lars is at any time, should I so choose. Daniel, not so much.
It so happened that, once Daniel arrived at his destination for lunch, he looked at the car, informed me about it, and… panicked, as best I can tell. Not so much that he neglected to get lunch, but once he did, he just headed home, without being about to think about what he needed to do to get the car fixed. In his defense, the tire place is easy to overlook when you don’t need it – and how often do you? – so it didn’t cross his mind. But it also didn’t occur to him to check whether I’d replied to his message with any recommendations.
Or maybe he didn’t send the message until after he’d gotten home in any event, in which case, my response wouldn’t have done him much good.
It wasn’t until Lars and I parted ways and I headed home that he responded to me, letting me know this (and again apologizing). Once again, I suggested – strongly – that he contact AAA and have then get it towed over to the tire place it hadn’t occurred to him to head for in the first place. By the time I pulled into the driveway, he’d been waiting for ten minutes, and remain there for another half hour. Thankfully, it’s not as if we had to be anywhere.
We’d eventually get that towed there and checked in with about a half-hour to spare in their workday. By this time, there was no tire left on the passenger side (and the rim was so badly damaged as to be useless itself), and the one on the driver’s side was all but flat, so they would both need to be replaced. The mechanic on duty admitted that they didn’t have rims available onsite, but could get ahold of a third party in short order. Both Daniel and I were expecting a pretty hefty bill.
However, this morning, just as I was about to head out to the ‘office’ (for the first time this week!), he got a call from the tire place. They had everything he would need, and while it would take another day before it would be ready (which was fine, as it wouldn’t be until the weekend when it would really be needed for the two of us to be able to go about our separate ways), the tires and the rim would only be somewhere between three and four hundred dollars. Granted, it’s the kind of fiscal setup that hurts no matter who you are, but as it’s so much less than we expected, it doesn’t feel all that bad.
In any event, thanks for keeping an eye out for the both of us, honey. Still, if you could wish us further luck, it would be appreciated, as we clearly both need it.
Letters to Rachel 