California, Part 3

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     I haven't posted in a long time, because this is a car blog, and a beach blog, and a car beach blog, and there wasn't a whole lot to report. I have been watching a lot of Superstore lately, which is why this is titled California, Part 3. It only makes sense to continue it from where Amy Sosa left off, when she ditches Jonah to go to California. It sounds familiar, except she didn't leave in the dead of night. Jonah did, when he left business school. As he tells it, he was so burnt out that he took a night drive. He just kept driving, and driving, and driving, until he got hungry and stopped at a store in St Louis. They were hiring. He applied. The rest is history.

    What a long fucking tangent. Have I mentioned I love Superstore? I started making edits on my TikTok, which I have to make private for a short amount of time. It'll be public again soon!

    Back to your regularly scheduled programming:

    Never fear for a lack of content, however, because I, a certified and professional idiot, don't know how to give up.

    It's been about eight hundred miles since Dani's transmission was replaced, and about four hundred since the coolant relay was fixed. So far, she's been running just fine. Same old, same old. A little headass, a little stupid, definitely her own brand of car. Naturally this reassurance plus a long weekend... this means I need to try California again. Because, hey, if California is going to catch me with my pants down again, I want every goddamn advantage on my side. 

    Backstory: six months ago, the owner of my auto shop, Cal, said that I should get my brakes looked at in six months. Which is now. I had a reminder set on my phone. I'm sure no one is surprised. The brakes aren't squealing or anything, but hey. It can't hurt.

    So after work today, I took Dani to the mechanic to see if they could squeeze me in for a brake inspection-- and okay, maybe a quick check up on everything, just to like clear me for real, instead of an over the phone clearance, like what happened last time.

    I walked in, announced nothing was wrong, just a quick brake inspection, if they had time today, or I could come in tomorrow. I didn't say a word about California yet.

    Alex said, "Tomorrow morning would be better. Don't worry, we'll check everything."

    I laughed. "Great, because, well, you know, it's been maybe eight hundred miles since the transmission, and maybe like three hundred since the coolant relay, and she's running fine, so I was already wondering if you could check everything, because. You know. I want to go to California again, you know?"

    Alex and Mo looked at each other, and started laughing. I wanted to know, what's the joke?

    "I told Mo earlier, 'Hey, I think we should call Jackie. I have this gut feeling that girl is going to take off this weekend. We should get her in to check on her car.'"

    They know me so freaking well. They have earned every single bit of business I have ever given them. So I have an alarm set for tomorrow, at seven, because I have to put gas in my car, and babysitting at nine. My brakes better have life in them still.

    If there's something wrong, I will cry. Because not only will I have to postpone California, but it means somehow I missed a sign that something was wrong.

    Update on Dani tomorrow! But maybe Sunday, because tomorrow I'm babysitting and then going to see John Mulaney. Sunday will be cleaning day: the house & the car. Both are kind of a mess, and entirely my fault. Wish me luck!    

    

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