If you have contacted
both of your parents by 10:30 a.m. for advice, you're probably in a pickle.
Today, for example, I called my Dad at 10:10
a.m. and immediately began the following G-chat with my Mom at 10:25 a.m.:
me: you
probably don't have these moments very often anymore.... but do you remember
the feeling of thinking "hmmm...I probably shouldn't do this", but
you do it anyway?
Val: I'm afraid to ask...what did
you do?
So, as most of you are
probably wondering, what did I do this morning?
I'm proud to announce
that as I type I am in the midst of not one but TWO "hmmm.. I probably
shouldn't do this"
moments. To
begin, I made the mistake of gambling with a gas tank. In hindsight, I'm
not really sure why I decided to gamble in the first place. I've lost
countless Packers bets this past year alone and won thirty-nine cents my
last trip to the casino, but I guess you could
say the temperature rising above zero had me feeling lucky.
Needless to say, I came back to my car after letting
it "warm up" for 15 minutes to find the
only sound coming from my Sebring, normally growling with
excitement through her muffler each morning, was
the radio blaring inside her poor, lifeless shell.
I cannot say for sure
why I spent the next 10 minutes sitting alone in my car listening to the radio,
as if i was in shock that this car, this beautiful automobile that has accompanied
me on so many free spirited-adventures and last-minute road trips
over the course of our five year friendship, couldn't actually run on
fumes alone. Hmm. In that moment, alone in my parking lot, I
pondered my next move. And by pondered my next move I mean checked
Facebook and listened to the radio for a few minutes in hopes that the
answer to my problems would pop up in a status update from Clay Matthews saying
"On my way to Iowa City to rescue Jaclynn and then cuddle the day away
with her." Sadly, I am brought back to the real world when I catch a
glimpse of a disgusting stray cat meandering from the dumpsters
towards my car. Alright, time to get moving there are real problems at
hand. Cats are gross and my car won't start.
My first call goes out
to who else but 'Mopar Mike', the Sebring's primary care physician and also my Dad.
He gives me two specific instructions: get a 5-gallon gas can
don't try to start your car right away after you've filled it with gas.
"Got it," I try to say as confidently as possible as I'm
racking my brain trying to figure out the hell is going to help me out of my
very first Iowa City car emergency experience. From experience, I
knew this would be an experience in itself. For example,
when I popped my tire after running over a median in 2010, I called Phil.
When my tires almost fell off after not being properly fastened
by their lug nuts in 2007, two kind old men on their smoke break
outside an auto shop in Kiehler, Wisconsin got me on the road again.
In 2008, Jamie, Lacey, and the Valley West
Mall security guard assisted me when I locked my keys in my car with the
lights on at work and John Benigni escorted me 20-miles to retrieve
my spare key after I locked my keys in my car as it was still running
later that year. And for the sake of time and dignity,
I will not mention name-by-name all the former boyfriends who have came to
the rescue during my many car crises of times past. So
2014, fresh off its debut, seems to be eager to introduce a new experience
to the roster...but who will I call this time? I'm not in Des Moines, Milwaukee,
or Kiehler, Wisconsin anymore, still relatively new to Iowa City, and
not fully ready to expose the few friends I have managed to
acquire at school and work to the car-crisis-experience just yet.
Roughly 15 minutes
later, my knight in a yellow-cab came to my rescue. His name was Jorge, and he didn't know it
then but he was about to add his name to my roster of
car-crisis-experience-companions. He greeted me with a smile, and in the
short trip to Wal-Mart we made small talk about the weather and I filled
him on my situation. He pulls right up to the doors
(VIP status), and as if he can sense from the front seat that I have no idea
where to look for a gas can, turns around and tells me exactly where to
go when I get inside. Thanks to Jorge's directions,
I find the selection of gas cans with ease. Hearing my dad's
voice in my head, I spot the 5-gallon gas can I was directed to buy. It
seemed way too big and intimidating compared to its 2-gallon counterpart.
Reaching for the more user-friendly 2-gallon gas can, I hear my own voice
in my head saying for the second time this morning, "hmmm.. I probably
shouldn't do this." I make my way to the check-out, snag a bag of
M&M's, pay, and walk out with my brand new 2-gallon gas can. I would
later regret that decision. The gas can selection of course...NOT
the M&M's.
Two and a half hours
later, two trips to the gas station, one bag of peanut M&M's, and one
jump-start later the Sebring awoke from her dehydration-induced
coma. After an unsuccessful first attempt at reviving the Sebring with
two-gallons of gas, I quickly got back on the phone to get Jorge, my
knight in a yellow-cab back. He arrived quickly, and like before greeted
me with a big smile. We already got the small talk out of the way on our
first journey, so on our second trip we talked like old friends. We
talked about our families, dreams, and debated whether or not it was possible
to get high off of gasoline fumes. So, what did I learn from this
experience? Well, for starters...don't gamble. Also,
when Mopar Mike tells you to buy a 5-gallon gas can, you buy a
5 gallon gas can. I learned that Jorge's dream is to open a
hair salon in Iowa City and bring his wife to the United States from
Brazil and most importantly there are some pretty incredible people out
there who can turn a crisis into an experience to laugh and blog about.
It certainly isn't my first crisis and it won't be my last, but at the
end of the day I am reminded that even though you start your day in a pickle,
crying out to your parents for help you can still end your day high
off gasoline fumes with a new friend, a new experience and a reminder that
getting to where we need to be is half the fun.
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