No Plan is Truly Fool-Proof. Louis Shalako.

 Louis Shalako




No plan is truly fool-proof.

This morning, ten after seven, I was squatting in a couple of inches of water, as well as the dark, the cold and the rain. The tire I had plugged yesterday was holding air, so I could jack up the car and put it back on. That took ten or twelve minutes, suffering all the while, and in fact my lower back is stiff and sore. Firing up the vehicle, I got about one block and then the fucking yellow 'check engine' light was on, and the vehicle was running rather rough. All I could do was go around the block and try and get her back in the parking lot before she died. 

This car has something called 'limp home' mode, which is exactly what it says. It will get you home, but she will not start up again. And, just before I got to the entrance to the parking lot...it cleared up and the light went out.

Fuck.

What do we do now? I still needed smokes and gas. So I just continued on up the street, sticking close to home and trying to decide what to do. Money in hand, the engine was still behaving. Turning in the opposite direction, (which coincidentally goes past my building again, just in case of trouble), I went to my regular gas station, where the coffee is cheaper and I get to make it myself--if it's the last of the pot, I might skip it, but today I got a regular sized coffee for about $1.14.

And the car was still behaving normally. The smoke-shack isn't that far away, so I headed on down there, also noting that my rear tire felt like it had about ninety lbs. pressure in there. 

(When I checked it, it was up in the high thirties, which I have since adjusted). Picking up smokes for myself and the fucking neighbour, which always seems like a pain in the ass, (it's not like I don't have other priorities), I decided to sort of angle up towards where the highway passes along the east side of the city. With the engine running fine, there was that point.

That point where you have to commit to the mission.

I committed to going to work, and it is true that I have a cell-phone and roadside assistance. 

And I was afraid. I was afraid of the thing dying on me, and then I have to decide where to tow it. I have no fucking money and the credit card is maxed out.

It's just stress, ladies and gentlemen, but I need that part-time job, and if nothing else, it puts a bit of food in the fridge and buys me a God-damned beer once in a while.

I might have even said a little prayer there--whatever that's worth, coming from an atheist.

Anyways, I got in three hours at the shop, I made it home, and hopefully the thing will get me to the dentist’s office tomorrow and the fucking food bank on Friday.

You guys know I have all kinds of books and stories on Google Play, right.

Image. Louis Shalako. (No, it’s not my car. I wish.)

Thank you for reading. Better yet, thank you for listening.

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