So
on Tuesday I had my head examined. A CT scan was done on my brain.
The
results were normal.
Which
I found to be a bit disappointing. I’ve lived with this brain almost my whole
life and the last word I would ever expected to be applied in description of it
would be the word “normal”.
My
brain is normal? Honestly, I’m offended.
Anyway,
no blood clots floating around up there to account for why I had a stroke back
in January. I think the reason for my stroke is the same reason why it didn’t
kill me: dumb luck or divine intervention. Take your pick. I really think it’s
time to move on from this quandary. So far, my neorologist’s efforts to locate
the source of my stroke have been for naught except to insult me.
“Normal”
brain? Really? As if!
Let
me tell you what embarrassing thing my “normal” brain got me into on Sunday.
My
wife Andrea, daughter Randie and I made a quick excursion from the Fortress of
Ineptitude – South to the beach. After an hour on the sand and in the surf, we
had all we can stand of the beach. My eyes are super sensitive to salt water
and the waves kept laying the smack down on Randie. And the ocean smelled funny. So
we staggered back to our car to get some lunch.
Our
favorite place to eat at the beach is Friendly’s. It’s a chain restaurant with
some pretty good burgers and even better ice cream. There are Friendly’s
elsewhere but Randie insists we should only eat at the locations at the beach.
(ACD much?) Well, it was the highlight of our beach excursion: my eye weren’t
stinging, Randie wasn’t getting slapped down to the ocean floor and nothing
smelled funny. So let’s call that a win.
But
then: trouble!
Our
car wouldn’t start.
As
I’ve noted before, Randie has been driving a lot lately and getting much better
at it. To be honest, I’m kind of getting spoiled to being driven around. For
this trip, I was in the back seat; for longer rides, Andrea gets car sick riding
in the back. Me, I’m Ok with it. I’m just chillin’ back there. I even had comic
books to read; it was like being a kid again.
But
as we were getting ready to leave the Friendly’s parking lot, our good feelings
were dashed when the car wouldn’t start. As the resident man, I did what a man
is supposed to. I got out and popped the hood. I stared intensely at the
engine.
Which
marks the full extent of my automotive skills. The nice big friendly button
marked “Push me to make car go” could not be found.
At
this moment, a nice couple approached their vehicle next to our car. The man
asked if we needed help.
Now,
bless him,, he’s just trying to be helpful. But who stands in front of their
car, staring forelornly at the engine for fun? I resisted the urge to be
sarcastic. I mean, I’m standing there looking for a nice big friendly button
marked “Push me to make car go”. Who am I to judge? So I said, “Yeah, the car
won’t start.”
To
his credit, this guy resisted any urge to be a smart ass and say, “I didn’t think
you were standing there for fun.” No, he asked if I needed to be jumped off. And
I resisted the urge to reply, “Only if you buy me a couple of drinks first,
sailor.” No, I said that would be helpful, adding, “I have jumper cables.” The
guy noted he too had jumper cables. Maybe so but I’m trying to contribute
something here. So I opened the trunk. “Jumper cables? Jumper cables? Jumper
cables? Oh, there they are.”
OK,
I’m not that clueless. I do have a (gasp!) a normal brain. I do know what
jumper cables look like.
So
I bring out my cables and begin to affix the clamps to my battery posts. Jump cable
clamps are notoriously hard to open. For me, anyway. With both hands, I managed
to get one of the clamps opened and
barely grasping one of the posts. The guy helping me reaches in with one hand
(ONE hand) and affixes the clamp more firmly to the battery post. My wrists are
still sore from struggling with that damn clamp and it this guy opens the clamp
with one hand.
Meanwhile,
my daughter is sitting behind the wheel, mortified that this car problem has
happened on her watch. The guy tells her to crank the car. Miranda notes that
the key isn’t coming out of the ignition. This prompts our helper to observe
that the car is not in park but in drive.
A
car will not start while it’s in drive.
How
the car wound up in drive before Randie started the car, well, it’s complicated
but suffice to say that Randie was even more embarrassed. And I’m not feeling
too good about this myself. Why didn’t I piece this together myself? Randie felt
incredibly stupid in front of this guy but hell, she's just starting to learn
to drive. I’ve been driving for 4 decades; how do you think this made me look?
“Normal”
brain? Really? As if!
And
I’m so glad my suffering amuses you.
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