Monday is Funday: Contest #4
Wild Dogs of the Chesapeake
Today we took the dogs to a dog beach on the Chesapeake. That sounds so much better when I write it than it was in real life. We drove about thirty miles out of the way to give them special doggie time on the beach.
Now, I should say that we have some great dog parks in Seattle. There’s one at Warren Magnuson that we like. There’s about a mile-long walk to a fenced off spot on the lake where hundreds of dogs gather every weekend morning. It’s that heaven all dogs are supposed to go to.
This was, well, not really heaven. We had to pay six bucks to get into the park. The dog beach itself was small and cramped, even for the two dogs there–ours. There was no fence at all to keep the dogs on the beach, either. So I acted as a human fence, shooing them back whenever they tried to run wild into the rest of the park.
After, we stopped at a deli. Pulling in, I drove over a curb with the trailer. It’s the kind of minor driving incident that makes me like cars with lots of clearance. And clearance wasn’t a problem at all this time, either. Weight was.
Once we were on the road again, Ami said, “Do you hear that noise?”
Ami and Lug Nuts
I groaned inside. Yes, I heard that noise. Sure enough, I looked in the rear view mirror, and the front, driver’s side trailer wheel, the one I’d driven over the curb, was flapping.
We stopped, and I looked behind us at a gas station across the street. It was barely a block’s length away.
They were almost closed, but not quite. And not thrilled about lending us their lug nut wrench, but they did. For my penance, I worked the jack, which was handily already attached to the trailer. We had a spare. It was full-sized and new. Somehow, we were in and out of there in about 25 minutes.
Oh, right. This was a post about a contest.
For this contest, I want to hear your best car trouble story. We’ll pick one storyteller to award the prize to. (Hint: it’ll help if you make us laugh.) And this prize is a good one.
You will win your very own, only barely used National Equality March commemorative t-shirt! Almost as good as if you were there. There’s only one size, so you might have to give it away if it’s not the one you happen to wear. I wore it on the day of the march, but it will be clean and fresh smelling when I send it to you, promise.
So, send us your car story by 11 p.m. tomorrow, EST, and you’ll be entered in the contest.
Good luck!
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Last Spring, being the dedicated employee I am, I decided I needed to go into work on Saturday. It was about 11:30 and I started to head into Seattle from Lynnwood.
Oh, I should tell you, my gas gauge had started acting “funny” about 2 weeks prior to this trip…
So, I’m cruising down the express lanes when I get that feeling, you know, the choking on the last gulps of gas feeling.Yep. I ran out of gas on the express lanes… 10 minutes before the lanes change over.
I knew I was in a serious pickle. Should I should call 911 or AAA? Before I got a chance to call anyone, the DOT truck showed up. The RUDE DOT employee told me he “would give me only enough gas to get off the express way, and its not his problem what happens to me after that.”
I was able to get off the express way and pulled into the first gas station I see in downtown Seattle. I pulled up to the pump and attempted to pay. The pump is not reading my credit card. Sigh. I walked into the gas station to speak with the nice attendant.
The attendant stated I needed to put the pump into my gas tank and then the pump will take my credit card. Hmmm, okay. I put the pump into the tank and try to pay again. No go. Back to the attendant who now tells me he will run my card inside. Groovy. Back out to the pump, still not working. Hmmm. Back inside to the attendant.
“Oops” the attendant tells me. “I put your card on another pump. Hurry so no one else uses your card.”
I RUN out to my car and pull away from the pump, forgetting the pump is still in my gas tank. I pulled away with the pump in my car, running over two hoses and bending back my gas cover beyond repair. Sigh.
I hop out of the car and survey the damage. Suddenly I hear over a loud speaker a very authoritative voice “step away from the car” and “Put your hands up”. Up my hands go, and I start walking backwards away from the car. I’m thinking “Oh shit. I must have committed some crime by driving with the pump attached to my car.”
As I look around, I realize everyone at the gas station is staring at me. There was a cop across the street, arresting a local for something else.
I put the gas in my car and drove home. I didn’t go anywhere else for the rest of the day.