I noticed a sign at my office today, "Surrogate Parent Training." As I continued along the maze of my office, I came across a few people who I figured were likely to be offering the training.
"I see your sign for surrogate parent training. Do you need a kid? Because I have one. And your parents would be seriously trained after dealing with him."
They laughed like I was kidding.
For some reason I cannot fathom, the song "Hillbilly Bone" is stuck in my brain. It has been for the past three evenings. If you're not familiar with it, I beg you to resist looking it up. I think my problem began when I read an article about it and watched the accompanying video. Tragic. For me, not the video.
Yesterday I had three new tires put on my car (yes, Dad, only three... the fourth was replaced in June). I've known for a couple of months that they needed to be replaced, but we prioritized Christmas first. I'm not saying it was the best decision, only the one we made. Anyway, we've had the same tire shop/mechanic for about five years. They've had a couple of names, but the important part was the owner... or owners, really, Mike and Carlos. I have fond memories of their place... and one not so fond, too (it's part of Mad's story, and I'll try to get it up later tonight). The dudes retired last week and sold their shop.
I spoke with the new owner on the phone before going in. He seemed really nice and even gave me an excellent deal. When I arrived for my appointment, the front desk guy came out and knew exactly what I was there for. The owner came over and greeted me. Kinda made me feel like a rock superstar.
Getting the tires on took longer than I'd expected, but the new guys had more customers than I've seen around there lately. By the time my car was done, the owner was gone. The price ended up being even better than what I'd thought the owner had quoted, enough that I could have afforded the alignment they recommended (and which I know is needed). But timing-wise... I didn't want to be any later with my day than I already was, so I said I'd return sometime the next day.
As I drove away, the "low tire pressure" gauge came on, so I swung around and headed back. Not one, but three men told little old me (I really hate guys who act like that) that my car's computer would reset after driving a little bit.
"How far's a little bit?"
"Probably less than a block... but not more than 20 miles."
"I live 50 miles from here and don't want to come back after 100 miles to have it reset."
It did not reset.
I spoke with Nance, AKA Car Girl and she suggested go to the dealership. I stopped at the one up here to see if they could reset it for me.
"We can check it out. Uh, it'll be $97."
And from the back seat, "That's cwazy!"
"I'll be going somewhere else."
I may have actually rolled my eyes at the service tech as I drove away.
When I dropped Mad off this morning, I asked Dad what he recommended. He told me how he manually resets his gauges. I think he forgot that I drive a Ford and he drives a Saturn. It seems to be important.
So I drove back to the shop today. Getting stuck behind a driver from Nebraska who, best as I can tell, marveled at every single intersection we crossed (no, not just the ones with pretty lights) did not improve my mood. (Nor did the Nebraska driver who apparently couldn't fathom going 70 uphill this afternoon. Dude, I know it's a big hill; it's called a mountain. It's okay! That's the speed limit. Hell, anything about 50 would be appreciated right now. The semis are passing us.)
Two of the three "hey there little lady" guys came over as soon as I got out.
"Did it reset?"
"It did not. How long will it take to reset it?"
"Probably about 10 minutes."
Nearly 20 minutes later, and after observing the service guy reading the manual to my car, the gauge was reset. The manual was crammed back into my glove box, but without the rest of the car guides. They were tossed on the front seat.
I understand not always knowing how to do everything on every single type of car. In fact, the first time I took my Hybrid Escape in to Mike for an oil change, the tech didn't reset the gauge. I went in and they worked it out, probably in a way very similar to how things happened today, only less obviously. The thing is, Mike and Carlos' place is a tire place. And the new owners had a tire place before. If people know tires and the associated stuff, they should know about tire pressure gauges, too, right? Right. It's not like my car is the newest thing on the road. So no, I didn't get the alignment done.
If anyone's got a referral for a reasonably knowledgeable mechanic, holla!
***That story about my not-so-fond memories will have to wait. Tom got home from softball with a lovely black eye and cuts in the shape of ball stitching.