UPDATE: Patti's fixed (07-10-09)! And, I get a piece of this story tomorrow!
As a reporting intern at one of the world's leading news organizations, I am available to be their "b*@#&." If they want me to cover chickens, I'm there. Sit outside a door for four hours in case something happens? I'm there. Drive an hour and a half to a train derailment on my day off? There. And, honestly, I love to do it. Any assignment is interesting to me. Even the ones that no one wants. I'm mostly excited to be doing what I love to do.
But, today, I couldn't be there.
I work noon to 8 p.m. this week. At 10:30 a.m., the office called and asked me to head out to a cemetery a grave-robbing scandal is unfolding. I felt the adrenaline rushing through my body. Out on a weird assignment for the day? That's got my name written all over it. And this is huge! Emmett Till is buried in that historical African American cemetery!
Then, I remembered that Patti -- my 1995 Nissan Pathfinder -- doesn't like me this week. And, I had to let another reporter go to the assignment.
I'm so bummed.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Patti has attitude!
For those of you who haven't met her, Patti is my beloved 1995 Nissan Pathfinder. For four years, we've traveled the country. She's been to New Orleans, Virginia, Nashville and made the trip between Houston and DC three times. Recently, she saved me for a trip to Chicago. She may not be a looker (with a huge dent in the front driver fender and most often not washed.) She may be missing the glovebox. Maybe the driver's side handle is missing and the lock on the passenger's side has a secret jiggling-code. No matter what, Patti's my girl.
But, Patti has 'tude.
Last night, after an 8-hour late shift, I went down to the parking garage. I found Patti, turned the key... nothing. Patti has 'tude.
So, I assessed the situation. Yes, I'm capable of doing that. (Thanks Daddy). It's not even attempting a turnover, so it could be the battery or the starter. Not the battery because a big spark flew from the jumper cables when I clicked them together. Damn, if it isn't the starter.
I think she has her panties in a bunch because I may have spent her new rotor money on a bike and sundresses last weekend. And, she
The only two options at that point were to call a cab or pop the clutch. I just paid for parking, so I decided option #2. *For the stick-shift impaired, popping a clutch is when you push your car for a good starting speed, put the car in gear and quickly pop the clutch.* Usually, though, you're not the only person doing it.
So, I pushed Patti back and heaved her forward. Jumped in. Put it in gear. Popped the clutch. I did that three times with only a quick sputter. Screw it! There was a ramp in the parking garage. Yep, you guessed. I pushed Patti down the ramp, hopped in, and hoped for the best. We were five feet from the wall when Patti decided she didn't want anymore bruises.
We made it home without further incident. I gave Patti a stern talking to and promised to fix her this weekend.
But, Patti has 'tude.
Last night, after an 8-hour late shift, I went down to the parking garage. I found Patti, turned the key... nothing. Patti has 'tude.
So, I assessed the situation. Yes, I'm capable of doing that. (Thanks Daddy). It's not even attempting a turnover, so it could be the battery or the starter. Not the battery because a big spark flew from the jumper cables when I clicked them together. Damn, if it isn't the starter.
I think she has her panties in a bunch because I may have spent her new rotor money on a bike and sundresses last weekend. And, she
The only two options at that point were to call a cab or pop the clutch. I just paid for parking, so I decided option #2. *For the stick-shift impaired, popping a clutch is when you push your car for a good starting speed, put the car in gear and quickly pop the clutch.* Usually, though, you're not the only person doing it.
So, I pushed Patti back and heaved her forward. Jumped in. Put it in gear. Popped the clutch. I did that three times with only a quick sputter. Screw it! There was a ramp in the parking garage. Yep, you guessed. I pushed Patti down the ramp, hopped in, and hoped for the best. We were five feet from the wall when Patti decided she didn't want anymore bruises.
We made it home without further incident. I gave Patti a stern talking to and promised to fix her this weekend.
It Could Only Happen To Me, Swear
It's high-time that I let the world in on the various, constant ways my life gets turned upside down. Whether it's being charged for summer housing when I just graduated to a random man telling me he's horny because he's "rolling" (slang for high on pills -- for those of you who are like me) it could only happen to me.
In fact, in the middle of starting this blog, my computer decided it wasn't interested in working. It shutdown.
To start things off, I thought the best example of my life would be my recent trip from Houston to Chicago for an internship.
Well, Daddy said he'd gotten me a car for graduation. So, I flew back to Houston, ready to embark on a cross-country trip with a minimum of two stops -- Atlanta for rest and D.C. to pick up my things. My dad is a used car salesman who buys cars from the auction, fixes them up, and sells them. Although I love him, he's not the most reliable. So I wasn't surprised when the car wasn't ready when I got home to Houston. I waited patiently...
...
...
... until it was less than a week before my internship was to begin. This being the biggest opportunity that I have and my industry being the way it was, I was anxious to get rolling. Missing or being late for my first day was not an option.
As soon as the car was moving, I loaded my suitcases and my little sister in the car and set off. We only made it to Louisiana before the car started showing it's true colors, via a blazing orange check-engine light.
A trip to the first pitstop -- Atlanta -- should have taken 10 hours, max. It took more than 24 hours. The engine was running hot every time we pulled over. My daddy and I tried to diagnose the problem on the road. We decided that it had to be the thermostat so my sister and I stopped at a random mechanic shop in Alabama to get it changed. When we hopped on the road, it car was fine. And then, it wasn't. When we were driving, it was fine. But, as soon as we pulled over for gas, it ran hot.
Needless to say, by the time we made it to Atlanta to spend the night at my friend's house, we were at each other's throats. I sent her home on a bus and thought I might make it to D.C. in one piece. But, first, I did the right thing. I stopped by Pep Boys. I let them check it out. I paid the ridiculous $70. They said it was fine, so I set off on the road.
I made it 1 1/2 hours out of the city. It stopped. Completely. My phone was dying. My car charger won't work. It's raining. I'm on the side of the road. Finally, it started and I drove the extra mile to get off the freeway. For two hours, I looked for a mechanic on my phone's phonebook. Finally, I ask the gas station attendant. The mechanic was two miles down the road.
The mechanic is a nice man. His daughter works the desk, and she's not surprised that I've broken down in her little town. The shop even has a dry erase board for those who have been stranded in Carnesville, GA.
When the mechanic appeared, he tickered with the car. And, he said the words that anyone with good car-sense knows means death.
"It's got a blown head gasket."
Crap! That's easily three days work and $1500.
I had two days to get to DC for my things and then to Chicago. So, I decided I'd abandon my car in Nowhere, GA and fly to DC, pick up my old car and go to Chicago. As luck would have it, there was a cheap flight leaving out of Atlanta that night for $99.
Problem: Carnesville has no cabs, no buses, no trains, no planes. It's the middle of nowhere.
My friend in Atlanta was apprehensive of a trip in her new fiance's car at night by herself. So, this nice mechanic's daughter drove me back to Atlanta. Once in the airport, it looked like all was going to go according to plan Y.
But, not without incident apparently. I stepped on my phone charger in flipflops. A lady returned my boarding pass and I.D. (neither of which I'd known was gone). And, the flight was delayed.
Eventually, I made it back to DC and spent the night at my friend's house. I got up early the next day, put brakes on my old car and decided I'd just rest one more night. We packed up the car the next day and I made it to Chicago without problems. Of course, I was exhausted for my first day of work the next day.
This is the trip that I'll always remember. O yeah, it sucked. Especially since I only had $300 at the start of the trip and my dad was upsettedly feeding my bank account as I went broke. And, the head gasket is all my fault (according to Daddy). However, I now have that "after-I-graduated-you-won't-believe-my-crosscountry-trip-to-my-first-gig" story.
In fact, in the middle of starting this blog, my computer decided it wasn't interested in working. It shutdown.
To start things off, I thought the best example of my life would be my recent trip from Houston to Chicago for an internship.
Well, Daddy said he'd gotten me a car for graduation. So, I flew back to Houston, ready to embark on a cross-country trip with a minimum of two stops -- Atlanta for rest and D.C. to pick up my things. My dad is a used car salesman who buys cars from the auction, fixes them up, and sells them. Although I love him, he's not the most reliable. So I wasn't surprised when the car wasn't ready when I got home to Houston. I waited patiently...
...
...
... until it was less than a week before my internship was to begin. This being the biggest opportunity that I have and my industry being the way it was, I was anxious to get rolling. Missing or being late for my first day was not an option.
As soon as the car was moving, I loaded my suitcases and my little sister in the car and set off. We only made it to Louisiana before the car started showing it's true colors, via a blazing orange check-engine light.
A trip to the first pitstop -- Atlanta -- should have taken 10 hours, max. It took more than 24 hours. The engine was running hot every time we pulled over. My daddy and I tried to diagnose the problem on the road. We decided that it had to be the thermostat so my sister and I stopped at a random mechanic shop in Alabama to get it changed. When we hopped on the road, it car was fine. And then, it wasn't. When we were driving, it was fine. But, as soon as we pulled over for gas, it ran hot.
Needless to say, by the time we made it to Atlanta to spend the night at my friend's house, we were at each other's throats. I sent her home on a bus and thought I might make it to D.C. in one piece. But, first, I did the right thing. I stopped by Pep Boys. I let them check it out. I paid the ridiculous $70. They said it was fine, so I set off on the road.
I made it 1 1/2 hours out of the city. It stopped. Completely. My phone was dying. My car charger won't work. It's raining. I'm on the side of the road. Finally, it started and I drove the extra mile to get off the freeway. For two hours, I looked for a mechanic on my phone's phonebook. Finally, I ask the gas station attendant. The mechanic was two miles down the road.
The mechanic is a nice man. His daughter works the desk, and she's not surprised that I've broken down in her little town. The shop even has a dry erase board for those who have been stranded in Carnesville, GA.
When the mechanic appeared, he tickered with the car. And, he said the words that anyone with good car-sense knows means death.
"It's got a blown head gasket."
Crap! That's easily three days work and $1500.
I had two days to get to DC for my things and then to Chicago. So, I decided I'd abandon my car in Nowhere, GA and fly to DC, pick up my old car and go to Chicago. As luck would have it, there was a cheap flight leaving out of Atlanta that night for $99.
Problem: Carnesville has no cabs, no buses, no trains, no planes. It's the middle of nowhere.
My friend in Atlanta was apprehensive of a trip in her new fiance's car at night by herself. So, this nice mechanic's daughter drove me back to Atlanta. Once in the airport, it looked like all was going to go according to plan Y.
But, not without incident apparently. I stepped on my phone charger in flipflops. A lady returned my boarding pass and I.D. (neither of which I'd known was gone). And, the flight was delayed.
Eventually, I made it back to DC and spent the night at my friend's house. I got up early the next day, put brakes on my old car and decided I'd just rest one more night. We packed up the car the next day and I made it to Chicago without problems. Of course, I was exhausted for my first day of work the next day.
This is the trip that I'll always remember. O yeah, it sucked. Especially since I only had $300 at the start of the trip and my dad was upsettedly feeding my bank account as I went broke. And, the head gasket is all my fault (according to Daddy). However, I now have that "after-I-graduated-you-won't-believe-my-crosscountry-trip-to-my-first-gig" story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)