So the dealership didn’t call back to give me the estimate on the tires and wheel, but honestly, it’s not like I have any choice about whether or not to do it, as it needs to be done in order to pass the state inspection.
The one problem is that the additional work could mean that they’ll have my car until Friday.
Of course, that won’t actually leave me carless, as tomorrow I have to give Brian a ride to the airport.
Or rather, he’s giving me a ride and then I’m taking his car, which I will then, apparently, swap for Kathleen’s, as Brian’s has better A/C.
As long as the car is ready by Friday evening I’ll be able to rush over to Brian and Kathleen’s after work and have Kathleen bring me over to the dealership, at which point I will shell out a bunch of money, and then be back in my car, which, presumably, should ride more smoothly with the new (and unbent) tires, and which will also indicate how much fuel I have and have a working A/C system (Just in time for the cold front that’s moved in and cooled temperatures off from their blistering heights; as always, my timing is impeccable).
Beyond bringing my car in to the dealership this morning and catching a ride home with Kathleen on her way in to work, my day was pretty uneventful.
After I got home from the dealership I sat around for a while and eventually took a nap.
And that was pretty much it until the mechanic called to give me the bad news.
Later, the phone rang again, though this time it was Brian.
Even though it had been his intention that I would drop him off at the airport to catch his plane it hadn’t occurred to him until today to actually ask me if I’d do so.
Of course, he was unaware that Kathleen and I had already worked out the details without him.
He’s actually heading to New Hampshire to hang out at a summer camp that he used to work for (which had nearly become the infamous “Camp Crystal Lake”) and to hang out with is friends.
I never went to camp when I was a kid, and, quite honestly, I never understood the appeal.
I suppose it would be different for someone living in an urban area, as part of the appeal is, presumably, getting out into nature. Growing up where I did, all I needed to do was step outside and bam! Instant nature.
In that regard, most of my early life was spent living at camp.
As for the rest of it…well, I’m not a fan of structured activities, and can’t really recall a time that I was one.
Then if you factor in the anti-social nature of my personality you soon realize that you don’t have a happy camper in the making.
Of course, in later life I did sort of go away to a couple of camps, though technically they were known as jail and rehab.
Still, it was very much a camp-like experience in many respects: shared living space, group activities, care packages from home, the looming specter of situational homosexuality that results from confining a bunch of guys together with nary a woman in sight…
And honestly, most of my jail time was spent in a “Work Camp,” though there wasn’t much in the way of canoeing or telling of ghost stories or whatever the hell it is that people do at camp when they aren’t running for their lives from some machete-wielding maniac.
Still, I’m sure that Brian will have lots of fun and that upon his return he’ll regale us with his tales of wacky “Meatballs”-esque escapades.
Assuming he survives! Chh-chh-hah-hah-hah!
Seriously Brian; the best way to survive a Jason attack is to never be seen nude on camera or have sex.
(That last part pretty much applies regardless of Jason’s presence or absence, though, considering that your wife won’t be there with you…)
In any case, I think that will do it for this entry, and in the meantime I think I’ll go back into that dark cabin where I just narrowly escaped having a harpoon thrown through my eye in order to see whether or not the mask-wearing psychopath is still in there because that’s the thing to do when you’re running for your life…
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