Of Oil, Cents, Sense (or the lack of), and a Glider

Today was the BIG DAY! I FORCED myself to get up and head over to the Ford dealership (don't trust those quickie places) to get the oil changed. I say FORCED, as it is such a 'guy' place, and I feel really uncomfortable dealing with them. But, I 'manned up' and headed out.

I started up the vehicle and went to wipe the dew off the windows with the squeegee I keep on the floor. Not there? Did that get taken during the break-in? Should I amend the police report?

First, I dropped off Running The Books : The Adventures Of An Accidental Prison Librarian, by Avi Steinberg, at the library.  Pretty good book. It occurred to me that working in a school library is not unlike working in a prison library, except one is less likely to get shived in a school. I hope.

I drove the freeway to the dealership, so as to warm up the vehicle. At the service entrance I put myself in the capable hands of the service writer.  He looks at my odometer reading and exclaimed (really!), "Is that REAL?" I related the story of how my bike, of a similar age, has a bit more miles than the vehicle. He allowed as I probably did not need a tire rotation, so we settled on an oil change and check of air and fluids. The question came up as to whether I was going to wait for it, or come back later. I said I was going to take a walk for an hour or so (geocaching!). He said it would probably take about that long. I said, "Let's say I'm waiting for it, then."

I started walking down the road. For some reason I checked my pants pocket. Oh, crud, my vehicle keys! I took them with me!  So I did a little speed-walking back to the dealership, and met the service writer halfway up/down the driveway. I told him that I am an idiot.  As if he didn't realized that!

I started off again.  About half-way to the cache I found a balsa wood glider. I picked it up and took it with me, since I had forgotten to bring the camera. I knew you wouldn't believe it without a picture. Which I took at home.



It flied, I mean flew, just as well as I remember them flying in my youth. Disappointingly.

I made my way to the cache location and sat down to stare at the vines growing ALL OVER the fence. Yes, it was one of THOSE kinds of caches. I knew it was low on the fence, and hanging (from the previous log entries). I had to scoot my behind over a couple of times, but I finally spotted it. Wasn't that hard, at all. Just had to ignore the hundred or so cars heading off to work, every driver surely staring at my back wondering what the heck that kook is doing over there.

Headed back to the dealership and sat myself in the waiting area. I picked up a Reader and read it cover-to-cover, backwards, as is my wont.  After finishing the mag I went up to the counter to check on the progress of the work. Turns out I was supposed to get a beeper so they could notify me when it was finished. Because it had been finished for quite a while. Oh, well, I got to read the magazine and watch a little informative show on the television about how to buy batteries.

One of the things I hate about the dealership is that I'm never sure how much it is going to cost. I had the idea from the service writer that it was going to be around forty bucks. Turned out to be, with discount (Ford Owner Advatage, $12.00 off), $24.87. They gave me three shiny cents and a dime in change. Two of the pennies (yes, I KNOW they aren't REALLY pennies!) had a different reverse that I had not seen.



The new reverse looks sort of 1800s, doesn't it?  So now I've lived through two changes on the cent. I remember when it changed back in 1958 or so. (Wikipedia says it was 1959. Also says it costs 1.79 cents to make a cent.  I think I've discovered the source of our financial woes!) Do you suppose the Lincoln Memorial coins will ever become as rare as the "wheaties"?

The little rock was in my back pocket. I wonder where it came from? Some past trek, no doubt.

The vehicle was waiting for me out front, with cold bottle of water sitting in the cup holder. Which I find creepy, for some reason. I'm not a bottled water kind of guy.

I drove on home. The vehicle seems to run better with fresh oil. Or maybe it's my imagination.

Later!