It is no secret that I hate driving. The act of operating a motor vehicle is enough to make me break into a sweat. Seriously, I could vomit just thinking about it. There is a less-traveled route in New Orleans that has a raised roundabout. RAISED! ROUNDABOUT! (Die.) I’ve only happened upon it twice. At first I thought I must’ve hallucinated it but the second time this past winter solidified that it is a real thing.
I’m not particularly scared of cars, I just don’t like when I have to steer them. (Although considering the frequency and risk, I don’t really see how some people are terrified of flying in an airplane but don’t break out into a full panic attack when getting into a car.) Which is why I am the closest to comfortable behind the wheel of my 2005 Honda Civic that has the most limited of power and has lovely manual roll up windows and two doors so no one is thinking “Hey, let’s take Andrea’s car!” (Mine or my best friend’s silver Honda that is basically the same thing with power windows!) The past ten years, well…if my car could talk. It doesn’t so let’s just leave it at that for now.
A few months ago my car starting doing something really weird – the turn signals were making a funny sound and taking a few extra minutes to click on. But only when it was hot!? Weird. Anyway I hate car problems and there is nothing that I hate more than a car problem that is only a problem sometimes because the car people just think I’m crazy. Anyway I ride it out through the summer. A few times it was incredibly stressful because I couldn’t singal when changing lanes on the highway but hey, its Louisiana – New Orleans! – loads of people don’t use turn signals here. It is kind of a thing.
I personally am an excessive signal-user. Does the road curve sharply left? You better believe my left turn signal is on. (Freak, I know.) It’s just habit. Anyway so recently the just TOTALLY stopped working. And I was kind of broke (Grad school! In English!) and so decided to wait until the day before payday to call the auto shop. I called on Thursday and of course they didn’t have an appointment until the following Tuesday. Woof. So here I am, trying really hard to use the bike arm signals to let people know what I’m attempting to do. It turns out, no one knows those signals and it is a lot harder to turn with one arm than two, especially when the second arm is stupidly hanging out the window. (As opposed to holding a coffee or something.)
Finally Tuesday came and I dropped my car off. YAY! I pull up to the parking lot and one of the mechanics is about to pull a car out of their parking lot. He’s waving me to drive forward because he can’t tell that I want to turn into his parking lot. He thinks I’m just being an asshole and waves his arms at me and I can’t read his lips so I decided to just park on the street.
All day passes and no word. So I call to check and you know what? NOT yay. They can’t figure out the problem. It is between two things – one less expensive, one significantly more – and the guy can’t make a decision. He unplugs whatever electrical part manages the turn signal and then plugs it back in to do more tests and guess what? No really, GUESS WHAT? It magically works again. My Go To Fix It solution of unplug and plug it back in is what fixed my silly Civic. $104 later (had to be charged for labor since they didn’t “fix” anything) I just have to patiently wait for them to go on the fritz again. CAN. NOT. WAIT.