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"A Walk'll Do You Good." - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
"A Walk'll Do You Good."
Yeah, right.

I had a first-thing appointment today for a short but annoying list of Car Things.  A closer, more convenient chain place had replaced one of two tires, but its twin was out of stock and I got sick of chasing them to order it.  I also popped an emissions code, which gives a semipermanent nag screen in addition to the idiot light. Plus, the oil was due to be changed, which puts its own code into the cycle.  So I turned it all over to our regular mechanics. They're good people, who don't overcharge, will look for used parts when they know they'll do, and you leave with a smile.

Unfortunately, getting there is now a chore.  They used to be close to Eleanor's previous job, almost exactly a three-mile walk from home. I did it a couple of times back in the day, but a year or two ago, they lost their lease (Maple Road needed another convenience store, dontcha know) and moved to a bigger building Erin and Bill bought outright, several miles further north and a bit west.

We dropped off Kermit yesterday afternoon and went and saw Keanu (fun stuff).  Eleanor had a long workday today, beginning round 11 but scheduled past when Erin closes. My first thought was to do something I've managed not to do in the now seven full months since I moved my office: walk to work and get a ride up there from a co-worker.  I've clocked the distance to my new place at just under two miles, and today I got up early enough to get there on time,.... only to hear the staccato of rain pelting the window frame with no sign of ending any time soon.

So trip #1 in Ziggy covered those two miles first thing this morning, two more on the return trip to take Eleanor to work.  In hindsight, I should've plugged him in last night, since the dropoff-and-Keanu trip took his charge below 80 percent.  Also in hindsight, I should've made sure Erin's counter dude got my whole laundry list of needed work: the tire was done by 9:30, but they didn't finish the other stuff until maybe half an hour after Eleanor had to be at work.

Thus, another 20 percent or so of charge was needed to take her to the store, plus 20-and-change more to drive over to pay for the repair while they were still open.  I started to wonder if he'd have enough to make it on the longest single trip at the end of the day, so I left work a little early, came home and plugged him in.... which got him back to maybe 30 percent.

By the time I got to the store, found her inside and we both loaded up groceries, Ziggy was hoovering just at 20 percent. That's when he stops telling you how many more miles you can drive.  Eleanor avoided getting on the 290; I'd forgotten that unlike gas-powered cars, Iggy and Ziggy do better on "fuel" at lower speeds.  We took a fairly straightforward combination of streets as he started approaching 15 percent; by now, the rain had long passed, and once we were within that sorta-three-mile-walk range, we agreed I would just walk the rest of the way to claim my car.

She pulled over on a fairly busy four-laner just past the 990, put his flashers on, and I went to get my wallet and keys out of the back.  Wallet, fine; keys, though, were nowhere to be found.  I could feel the anxiety rising as I poked through grocery bags both full and empty, and scraped the "floor" of Ziggy's rather modest trunkspace, all to no avail.  Finally, with at least two run red lights and some dirty looks from and at aggressive motorists, we bailed on the adventure and made it home with maybe five percent to spare.  We're just going to do it in the morning, when he'll have a full charge and we'll at least be caffeinated.

Oh, and the missing keys? Fell down between the driver's seat and the transmission lever while I was driving over to pick her up- because I didn't need mine to drive hers.  They, plus wallet and everything I need for court tomorrow morning, will be in one place before I turn in tonight.

Maybe Wednesday I'll take that walk, finally.


Even before all this, Erin's neighborhood got in my head in a weird way.

Some places just have names- of town or street or building- that always bring out an association for me.  Every Saturday, the temple nearest our home displays "SHABBAT SHALOM" on its electronic sign, to which I always respond out loud with a "SHOMER SHABBOS!", a la John Goodman in Lebowski.  Just past that, they painted "DO NOT BLOCK" on the pavement in front of a firehouse entrance, but they did it this way, so I always off it read in my Yoda best voice-

And, to the point today, the cross-street closest to Erin's new garage is named Wayne Avenue.  I cannot see that name without thinking of this, and saying it in the Batman '66 Narrator voice as he did every time the place was mentioned:

Just seeing the street sign yesterday was enough to get stuck in a bad Bat-dream.  Right before awakening, I was an assistant District Attorney, learning that my boss was about to arrest, um? Was it Batman? Was it Bruce Wayne? Or maybe it was Adam West.  I was trying my damndest to beg off the case without revealing that my sister was, in fact, MARRIED to the Dark Knight. Or the Millionaire Playboy. Or the Campy Actor.  One of those.  Alas, we'll never know, because that's when the Bat-Alarm went off.  Unless there's a thrilling conclusion tomorrow morning,....

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weebleswobble From: weebleswobble Date: May 3rd, 2016 03:55 am (UTC) (Link)
i frequently tell my mother 'same bat time, same bat channel' when referring to the next time we meet for swimming (at the same time every week)
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