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Just after I posted about the intelligence of different dog breeds, this story breaks:
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John's been driving his newer car for over a week. I asked him if everything was OK with it. "Yeah. It's OK." He paused.
Two years ago, I drove to meet John to switch cars. I got into his car, pulled out of the parking lot and heard a noise. A clunk and a screech. I took my foot off the accelerator to see if I could hear it again. BAM! The car stopped and dropped at the right front corner. "What the..." I got out to see what was up. The wheel had fallen off. I looked at the angle of the wheel to the ground and surmised a broken ball joint. There had been a noise in the car that he hadn't mentioned. He's improving.
When we went to the store later, John drove. He turned off the radio so we could listen for the noise. I heard it. It was coming from the right rear. It did sound like a spring. Hmmm. We listened some more. I missed it one time because I was relating this story:
There was a time that I was the Manager of Automotive Parts and Service at a retail outlet. A customer called me, concerned about a noise she was hearing after having front and rear brakes replaced the previous day. After the repairs were completed, she drove the vehicle home. Her husband then drove the car. She was driving it for the first time this day. The noise wasn't present yesterday. I asked her to describe the noise. When did she hear it? Did it ever change or go away? I invited her to come to the store so I could take it for a test drive with her. On the drive, I heard the noise too. It was an odd rattling sound. Not quite a rattle, and not a rumble. We drove to the next block. I leaned forward and touched the brakes. I heard it louder. I did it again but went harder on the pedal. I reached down, opened the ashtray and removed a golf ball. No more noise.
John pulled into the driveway and I heard that 'sproing' clear as a bell. "You know what that sounds like?" I asked as I got out of the car. "Yep, here's the noise," I said from the rear of the car, as I tightened the antenna.
No more noise.
Updates on some previous posts:
Obesity is the #2 preventable killer of adults in the United States. 20 Things You Didn't Know about obesity.
Read the ~Original Post~.
| Today, I'm reading |  | and |  |
Oh, and EVERYONE!!!!! INCLUDING EVERY PERSON in the waiting room, including new patients that didn't even know the story, the DR. every nurse in the place, and the woman who delivers the lunches commented on my KILLER KICK-ASS CANCER BOOTS. Suggested that someone could lose an eye with that heel.Read the ~Original Post~
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Monday 1:30 p.m. at an intersection. This particular intersection has a total of 7 left turn lanes, 8 lanes for thru-traffic, plus each direction has a right turn lane. It is a major intersection.
I was the first car in an outside left turn lane and my light was red. There was a car in the middle of the intersection. The car wasn't moving and was positioned in such a way that traffic could not pass. Right turns could be made and one southbound lane was passing.
Horns started. I rolled down the window and heard the driver trying to start the engine. I got out of my car, approached the stranded driver and asked what the problem was.
"I ran out of gas. I called the Auto Club," the older man said. By older, I mean older than my parents (who are still young).
"Well, we gotta get you out of the intersection. We'll have to push you out of the way." I said.
I was far enough from the car that we had to raise our voices. And there were lots of cars around. Many drivers had windows open on their vehicles.
Again, louder, I said, "We'll have to push the car out of the way." I waved to a couple drivers to encourage them to help. One was on the phone; another had to adjust something on the dash. All the while, more cars lined up and waited for the man's Oldsmobile to get out of the way.
Now, I'm no Hercules. I'm not Goliath. I'm not feeble, but I know that I do not look like I can single-handedly move this man's car across 3 lanes of roadway. I could not interest anyone in helping. Finally, four cars behind mine, a door opened. The driver got out and came to help.
We did it. Me and this other guy. While the others watched. Once the Olds was out of the way, we shook hands and went back to our own vehicles.
I do not understand how any of those other drivers could watch this situation, assess it and then make a conscious effort to not help. Sad, isn't it?
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My family's largest fault is that we do not ask for help. So, when someone does ask, it means he or she really needs it. Several months ago, Michelle was admonishing me for not asking for help. She said that there would never be a circumstance when you couldn't call your family for help.
"Well," I said "If a bus runs me over, I would not refuse the help of strangers and ask them to call my family to help instead."
"OK," she agreed, "but that is probably the only circumstance. Now, promise that you wouldn't accept help from the strangers only after you try to lift the bus by yourself."
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So a 30-ish year-old man was walking through a home improvement store the other day with flip-flops on his feet. He walked into some fixtures that had been left in the aisle and cut his toe. It was a slice kind-of-cut. He's screaming about stitches and the "Incident Manager" was called to administer First-Aid. But nobody could find the First-Aid box. After several minutes of nothing being done to help this man, I walked over, pulled some alcohol swabs, gauze and bandaids from my purse and got to work. He's still going on about stitches and the time he's going to lose on his project. I explained that it may not need stitches. At best, maybe some of that crazy-glue stuff, but if he wants to avoid a trip to the hospital, take the bandage and wrap it tightly in the direction that will fold the skin over the cut. I go back to what I was doing before. Fixed up and feeling better, the man tells the Incident Manager, a clerk and other shopper in the area about how I was a hero. That I would selflessly help him with his bloody toe.
Morals of this story: Clean up the aisles. Watch where you're walking. I'm a hero.
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