Deep (Male) Thoughts

I was just thinking about what a wonderful car the Pimp Boat has been. I've had it for over 2 years now, and it has faithfully started every morning. I've put 2 new tires on it, 4 new brake pads, and I've religiously had the oil changed every (ahem) 5000-6000 miles. All this for $800. It has comfortably delivered me safely to work on a daily basis, regardless of the temperature or the status of the roads. It has made several roadies to visit the Warnocks in North Carolina without a hiccup. It has been my pickup truck in lieu of me having a pickup truck. (That's right, the Pimp Boat has transported lumber, drywall, plywood, and a host of other construction supplies.)

Never praise a car for being a good car.

After Toby went to bed, I headed off to visit a friend and watch the 2nd half of the Jags-Stillers game. On the way to his apartment, I started hearing some not-so-pleasant sounds. Then the lights started to dim. Then the power steering went out. Serpentine belt went bye-bye.

Fortunately, my friend has a clue about cars. (You might think that with a surname such as Duebber, I might have a clue. You'd be wrong.)

We hopped in his truck to visit the local Auto Zone. After buying the belt, we were unable to resist stopping by the local Skyline Chili. This was worth it. After some pleasant conversation and consumption of habanero cheese, we headed back to the apartment parking lot.

Before fixing the car, we decided to check the score of the football game. Of course, it was a close game, and there were only a few minutes left, so we decided to brew some coffee and watch those bastard Steelers lose. This was worth it.

Of course, when beginning to fix the car, my friend quickly realized that we needed more than just a belt. So, we went back to Auto Zone. Seeing as it was now after midnight, we shouldn't have been surprised that they were closed.

We are men. We saw the problem, knew what needed to be done to fix it. Instead of fixing it right now, we decided to eat chili and watch football first. By the time we decided we were ready to fix the problem, it was too late.

Microcosm of life, you say?