A couple of weeks ago, Melissa and I traveled down to Yucaipa for a baby shower for my niece. We took the Camry that my dad had recently handed down to me.
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2013/04/another-car-story.html
It was a really long trip but Melissa is good company and we had a lot of fun. Anyway, the Camry enabled us to have a GPS plugged into one power outlet and a phone recharging on the other power outlet, a luxury that my Buick hadn't had. Everything worked great. But then, the next weekend, I plugged in my phone and realized that I was getting no power. I tried the other outlet - nothing. I was bummed. I mean, I've got to be able to have constant available power for all these gadgets, right? The car was going to be going into the shop soon for routine servicing but rather than depend on someone else I decided to break down and read the car manual and see if I could figure it out.
After a bit of studying, I came to the conclusion that it must be a fuse. I set about attempting to find and replace the damaged fuses. I was impressed to read in the manual that some extra fuses were provided. How convenient! And, there was even a little plastic fuse-getter-outer to use to try and grab those little suckers. My fat, stubby fingers didn't do so well with that, though, so I resorted to using needle nose pliers to remove the fuses. My first attempt, however, didn't produce any results. I realized that there were several fuse locations. I wasn't reading the manual carefully enough and the first fuse I replaced went to, well, I don't know what it went to. It just didn't fix my power outlets. I tried again and realized that I was in the totally wrong fuse area. I was trying to replace fuses that were in the fuse box under the hood when I needed to be replacing fuses located under my dashboard. O.K. Got it. I eventually figured out which fuses needed to be replaced, and voila! I had power again. I was so proud of myself! In fact, I was feeling so cocky that I even posted it on Facebook, like it was some miraculous accomplishment. I mean, I was really proud...
Now if you look at the picture in the following link, you will see the location of the spare fuses. This is an important detail that we will come back to later.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10200904439675596&l=33cb8b4dda
Several nights later I was out at Jenny's house visiting while Zac was working out of town. Melissa was there too and she walked me out when I got ready to head home. I started the car, turned on the headlights, and started to back out of Jen's driveway. Hmmm...I noticed that I had no headlights. Turned them off, then on again. Nope. Tried the high beams. Yea! I had high beams but still no low. I could have driven home with the high beams on all the way but I would have pissed off a few people.
It suddenly occurred to me that this just couldn't be coincidental. After all, I had been messing around with the fuses. Melissa thought I was crazy but I was determined to get to the bottom of this before I left Jenny's. So, once again, I got out the manual, my flashlight, and the fuse-getter-outer. Read the manual again. Turns out that I had grabbed fuses that were above the spares when I had done my fabulous repair job. Didn't read the diagram quite right. So...I had taken the low beam fuses from their proper position and put them in the spot for the power outlets. I could charge my phone but drive in the dark.
Back they went into their appropriate spots. I drove home happily and the next day I went to Wal-Mart and bought more fuses. Now my power outlets are once again working, as are my headlights, and I have extra fuses in my glove box. (It had turned out that I didn't have enough spares.)
The moral of this story? Does there need to be one? I still feel pretty good about getting it all fixed myself but I have to laugh about posting my good deed so early on Facebook. Ah, pride. Gets me every time.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Another Car Story
In case you haven't followed my previous car posts, you might want to get caught up first. You can look here,
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-car.html
and here,
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2012/04/birthday-tribute-to-my-dad.html.
And now, here is one more car story:
Thursday afternoon
Me: "Good afternoon, Dr. Iversen's office. This is Debbie."
Man's voice: "What time can you be at my house tomorrow to sign papers?"
Me: "Dad?"
Dad: "Yes. What time can you be at my house tomorrow?"
Me: "What for?"
Dad: "I'll tell you about it later. It has to do with my car. What time?"
Me: "Dad! I'm at work. I can't talk about this right now. What have you done?"
Dad: "Just give me a time."
Me: "Oh, for heaven's sake. 2:00 p.m."
Dad: "Great. I'll explain later. Bye."
I called my dad as soon as I got off work. He quickly explained that he had gone to San Luis that day and bought himself a car. Actually, another car! (See links to previous posts above.) I was speechless. My dad will be 87 in just a few weeks. He is a remarkable man and I admire him greatly. But I must say, in the last couple of years, he has gotten a bit impulsive. (For example, the inflatable kayak that showed up one day.) But this was the second car that he had bought, without a word to me, until after it was a done deal. He wanted me at his house the next day because the new car was being delivered. He puts everything in my name, as well as his these days, so my presence was required so that I could sign the DMV paperwork.
I wanted to get after him about his capriciousness but I couldn't. I knew why he had done it. I've been driving a very old Buick for quite a while. It has almost 200,000 miles on it, the driver's side window doesn't role down, the rear passenger door doesn't open from the inside, the driver's side headlight is duct-taped on, etc. He's been worrying about me, a poor, single, old, frail woman, driving alone in a questionable car. I knew what was coming.
Friday afternoon
"I want you to have my Camry. I'd feel better about that. Don't argue with me. Are you going to rob me of the joy I get in helping you out?"
Stab! Now I know where I get my ability to lay the guilt on my girls. I inherited it from him. What could I say? I'm a parent, too. The drive to care for our kids never really goes away. Wouldn't I do something similar for one of my daughters if I was able? About that time, the sales manager from the car dealership drove up in the new car, followed by one of his employees in another car. The new car is a bronze colored Honda of some sort, very nice looking, a couple of years old and only 12,000 miles on it.
While Dad was writing the check the sales manager said to me, "Where's your old Buick? This Camry will be a much better car for you." I looked at Dad and said, "What did you do? Tell him my life story?" I turned back to the salesman and said, "It's not that I'm not grateful. It's just that at 60, I'd sort of like to think I was a bit independent." He replied, "Oh, I imagine you're independent and probably a bit feisty!"
Feisty? Hmm, I gotta tell you honestly, just as an aside, that comment made my day. Anyway, as he was leaving I said, "Listen, the next time he shows up in your dealership, CALL ME FIRST!"
The business was concluded and I hugged my dad and told him how much I really did appreciate all he does for me. We then proceeded to admire his new car.
"I hope it at least has better visibility than your Camry. That has some pretty significant blind spots. Can you see out of it better?"
Long pause..."Well, I don't know." Another long pause..."I didn't test drive it."
I was stunned. "Does it have cruise control?"
Long pause..."Well, I don't know." Another long pause..."I didn't sit in it."
Who does that? Who buys a car on a whim just because it's a low mileage Honda? Who doesn't sit in the car or test drive it? And who gives away his perfectly good Camry?
My sweet, wonderful, loving, caring, humble father. Hasn't God blessed me?
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-car.html
and here,
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2012/04/birthday-tribute-to-my-dad.html.
And now, here is one more car story:
Thursday afternoon
Me: "Good afternoon, Dr. Iversen's office. This is Debbie."
Man's voice: "What time can you be at my house tomorrow to sign papers?"
Me: "Dad?"
Dad: "Yes. What time can you be at my house tomorrow?"
Me: "What for?"
Dad: "I'll tell you about it later. It has to do with my car. What time?"
Me: "Dad! I'm at work. I can't talk about this right now. What have you done?"
Dad: "Just give me a time."
Me: "Oh, for heaven's sake. 2:00 p.m."
Dad: "Great. I'll explain later. Bye."
I called my dad as soon as I got off work. He quickly explained that he had gone to San Luis that day and bought himself a car. Actually, another car! (See links to previous posts above.) I was speechless. My dad will be 87 in just a few weeks. He is a remarkable man and I admire him greatly. But I must say, in the last couple of years, he has gotten a bit impulsive. (For example, the inflatable kayak that showed up one day.) But this was the second car that he had bought, without a word to me, until after it was a done deal. He wanted me at his house the next day because the new car was being delivered. He puts everything in my name, as well as his these days, so my presence was required so that I could sign the DMV paperwork.
I wanted to get after him about his capriciousness but I couldn't. I knew why he had done it. I've been driving a very old Buick for quite a while. It has almost 200,000 miles on it, the driver's side window doesn't role down, the rear passenger door doesn't open from the inside, the driver's side headlight is duct-taped on, etc. He's been worrying about me, a poor, single, old, frail woman, driving alone in a questionable car. I knew what was coming.
Friday afternoon
"I want you to have my Camry. I'd feel better about that. Don't argue with me. Are you going to rob me of the joy I get in helping you out?"
Stab! Now I know where I get my ability to lay the guilt on my girls. I inherited it from him. What could I say? I'm a parent, too. The drive to care for our kids never really goes away. Wouldn't I do something similar for one of my daughters if I was able? About that time, the sales manager from the car dealership drove up in the new car, followed by one of his employees in another car. The new car is a bronze colored Honda of some sort, very nice looking, a couple of years old and only 12,000 miles on it.
While Dad was writing the check the sales manager said to me, "Where's your old Buick? This Camry will be a much better car for you." I looked at Dad and said, "What did you do? Tell him my life story?" I turned back to the salesman and said, "It's not that I'm not grateful. It's just that at 60, I'd sort of like to think I was a bit independent." He replied, "Oh, I imagine you're independent and probably a bit feisty!"
Feisty? Hmm, I gotta tell you honestly, just as an aside, that comment made my day. Anyway, as he was leaving I said, "Listen, the next time he shows up in your dealership, CALL ME FIRST!"
The business was concluded and I hugged my dad and told him how much I really did appreciate all he does for me. We then proceeded to admire his new car.
"I hope it at least has better visibility than your Camry. That has some pretty significant blind spots. Can you see out of it better?"
Long pause..."Well, I don't know." Another long pause..."I didn't test drive it."
I was stunned. "Does it have cruise control?"
Long pause..."Well, I don't know." Another long pause..."I didn't sit in it."
Who does that? Who buys a car on a whim just because it's a low mileage Honda? Who doesn't sit in the car or test drive it? And who gives away his perfectly good Camry?
My sweet, wonderful, loving, caring, humble father. Hasn't God blessed me?
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