A day behind

Poor reader. It's been days since I've posted, and my last post was not even a continuation of the storyline of the first three. I am sorry, I mean I really am sorry. It's been a whirlwind since those crazy radiator days, and I simply haven't had the clarity of mind to commit all of the stories to writing. But happily, the tide is changing, and I have once again picked up my quill, as it were, to intrigue and enthrall to the best of my modest abilities.

So to backtrack, I actually did have to put in a new radiator. 3 bottles of goop total was what I needed to get my car to Johnny's Radiator (different Johnny) in Farmington. The radiator replacement would run around $350. No biggie. But because there was so much goop in there, they decided they wold need to do a backflush to get all the excess goop out of the plumbing. Again no biggie- until they broke the water pump during the back flush. It was hard to muffle the chi-ching sound behind the 'whoops,' but I'll give theme the benefit of the doubt. $300 more and no car til the morning.

By the way- a note about the word "til". I have done no research on this, but to the best of my reasoning the word "til" is an abbreviation of the word "until." Like 'til. Over the past several years, however, the spelling "till" has popped up everywhere- and I mean everywhere. This began happening around the same time Microsoft figured out how to do that underline spell check that happens while you type. On my computer (both PC and Mac), the word "til" is always underlined as misspelled. If, however, I add an additional "l", the underlining goes away, and my flashbacks to 4th grade English class subside. But what the hell is till? That doesn't make any sense. How would "until" become "till"? Is the second "l" decorative? Is it meant to be pronounced? Is it a reverse place holder for the missing "un" like the French circumflex holds the place for the Latin "s"? No. Can't be. What it can be, however, is that "til" just never got added to spell check, and the closest thing the computer could come up with as a proper spelling would be the word describing what you do to topsoil on a farm. But the people who type on laptops, don't generally work at farms. Most of them have probably never seen a farm (which is fine, I suppose, because most of what they eat comes not out of the ground but off of an animal or out of a chemical plant.). Are we really this disconnected, people? Is no one man enough to step forward and say "'til' is an abbreviation, damn it, and I don't care what no squiggly little red line indicates."

Alas, no. Till is everywhere. And the record will be changed to accommodate the cowardice of nerds everywhere, too afraid to look bad in front of Big Brother Gates, watching us through the eyes of that annoying little paper clip guy. I'm sure some day, Webster will sneak in a new definition for till - origin uncertain - like some W. signing statement - stealthy in the night, resetting the official text.

But I've had enough of it. I can stay silent no longer. Til will be til and till will be till. At least as long as I blog. And so be it.

The vehicle was ready the next morning. But I had already been thrown off schedule. Johnny (yeah, that one) had a concert in New Hampshire that was in "the middle of July" which I took to be the 18th or 19th but which was in actuality the 12th and the 13th. My plan had been to drive leisurely back to catch the show and then visit with some friends in New England. But once I found out the actual dates I needed to trim the fat, so to speak, of my drive home. Time was creeping in, and there wasn't a day to waste waiting around for my car. But waste it I did, and a new level of patience became required of me which I had never known could exist.

I am by nature a restless kind. I don't like to feel trapped, and I don't like to have my motion or options inhibited very much. This is the essence of Western American concepts of Freedom and it is one of the fundamental chords with which I resonate out here (there by now). So when the lady from the radiator shop dropped me off in downtown Farmington while they worked on my car, I was already uneasy. "About four hours," she told me. Damn. This would suck, but it would be bearable.

But it became harder. Downtown Farmington is pretty slow. It's one of those stalled re-vitalization programs for American cities' downtowns, and the only real signs of modernization are the coffee shop where I spent 80% of my day and the pub where I didn't spend any. I walked up and down Main St. and Broadway looking for someone to help me fix my bracelet. No luck, but it killed some time. I had an unpleasant phone conversation after about 45 minutes of waiting, and it fouled the rest of my day (actually the rest of my week). So I was pacing around downtown Farmington, in a really bad mood with no freedom. Sucked.

The four hour mark came and went and still I had heard no word (that rhymes). So I called to check in. Be ready in a half hour. 20 minutes later I get the call - broke the water pump - can you finish it tonight - no probably not - I really need my car, man - ok, try calling back at 5:30 - ok. . .5:20 call - nope, can't get it done, come back by 9am - shit, thanks.

Called Carol and she picked me up. Crappy, crappy day, but she was very sweet. Suggested going out for sushi (in Farmington?), but wasn't up for it. Don't eat when you're upset, is my motto, and waiting around grumpy in 3-digit heat had gotten me pretty upset. Now I was a day behind in getting back to NH for the concert.