"You're on My Pillow!"

Ouch! How come no one ever told me about fuel injectors? I didn’t know anything about “Techron…” before today, that is. And to the tune of $425, I might add. They say you need a lot of grace to watch your parents age; I maintain that the same can also be said of watching an aging car.

I knew something was wrong with my 14-year-old last Friday evening. When I drove it, there was just no power, and the spluttering that ensued proved worrisome. Of course, things of this nature must take place on the weekend when there is no one available to consult. So early Monday morning, Sharon followed me to Bowling Green to make sure the car didn’t die on the way. Now on the way to Bowling Green, there is this Very Large Hill. And I almost didn’t make it up the hill, for all symptoms were made worse by the incline.

I prayed quite often that the Lord would spare me the added trial of having to look up the south end of a northbound school bus. I did not want to increase the chance of stalling. And it was truly amazing. Of all days to not see a single school bus, this indeed was the one. Not a one did I see and was able to make it to the mechanic shop in record time, despite the reduced power. And then I remembered it was Columbus Day, and there was no school. But I thanked the Lord anyway.

Because I was dropping the car off before they were open, and because they had no clue it was going to be there, I left a little bright yellow post-it note on the steering wheel: “Car has no power. Fuel pump?? Spark plugs??” I just “love” describing symptoms of an ailing car. What do I know about it anyway? I just want things to work!

I caught a ride over to the school with Sharon, and we settled down to wait for our first classes to start at 8:00. Now on this particular morning, when we had risen before the sun did, Sharon had not been in a good mood. She was NOT, in fact, ready to face the day, she said. So when we arrived to claim our usual parking spot, we still had an hour until class started. Sharon was tired and ready to sleep; my nerves had been shot on the tense drive in, however, so I was wound up and not sleepy in the least.

Sharon put her car in park and terminated all systems, including the sound system. She grabbed her pillow from the back seat (pillow?), flopped over on her side, and was ready for her slumber to take over. I sat there for a bit, trying to be quiet, but the silence and her obvious grouchiness was too much. I had to do it. I began to giggle. She opened one eye. “What??” she said.

“It’s too quiet,” I said. She disagreed and closed her eyes again. The seat in her car was not as comfortable as the seat in my car. It felt awkward, and I shifted around to try to get as comfy as I could. I put my hands behind my head, trying to give it a little of the support the seat was not giving.

“You’re on my pillow!” Sharon said, tugging at my arm.

“I am??”

YES!

“Well, ok then. It’s still too quiet in here.” And then I began laughing again. So with a sigh of exasperation, she cranked the music on just for my benefit, and I was henceforth able to calm down a bit. But I still did not sleep. Sharon did though. She really was tired!

Two days later and after several more such painful rides, I finally got my car back and became my own person again. For a price, of course. $425… and that was just for one fuel injector! They tell me I have SIX!