2009: Year of the Car
2009 was the year of the car. At least my car. Let me elaborate.
POINT OF ORDER.
I’m proud to announce this is my first post of the new decade. And that’s not all. This is the first post on the all new DannyZeff.com. The entire website has been completely redesigned so that it is no longer a random website with further random “subsites” but rather a true showcase of everything Danny Zeff. That includes Yamblings, which now sits along the top of the website among my other writings and videos. (Of course if you are one of my Facebook readers, then none of this affects you. However I do recommend checking out the website.)
END POINT.
I received my driver’s license in fall 2008. And in summer 2009, I officially received my dad’s white 1998 Honda Civic. Meanwhile he bought a new Honda Insight, which is a new hybrid from Honda that from the outside looks exactly like the Prius. As far as I am aware, only two have sold in the Sacramento area. Guess who has the better car now?
I thought having my own car would be amazing. I could finally set the radio presets the way I wanted, pimp it with whatever bumper stickers I wanted, and join a mob since I could hide corpses in the trunk. Little did I know how much trouble I would have with my silly little Honda Civic. So instead of describing the ups and down of the year like I did for 2008, I want to yamble on about what my car has put me through. Here we go.
June 2009. I was visiting Santa Rosa on what I consider my first road trip. Unfortunately the road and I weren’t working so well hand-in-hand. I probably made at least 10 illegal moves over that weekend (hopefully cops don’t read this). Well, some point that weekend my friend and I were blasting some Frank Zappa while I drove through one of those Santa Rosan suburbs. My friend told me that I missed a stop sign a few yards back. I refused to believe it, but just to check, I turned my head–still in rhythm with “Dancin’ Fool”–just to prove there was no stop si–
Posing with my car
THUD! The car came to a loud stop. I was scared shitless that I crashed the whole front of the car into something awful. Quickly I stepped out of the car. No damage to the car itself… I just hit the curb very fast and very harshly. The only problem? I punctured one of the front tires. Huge gaping hole just laughing at me.
Well that was embarrassing, but luckily this happened in the middle of a residential neighborhood and not down the busy freeway of Interstate 5. My friend’s dad came by and helped me lift the car using a jack, take off the poor tire, and put on a spare (which I didn’t even know existed in my car!). Unfortunately even then, the spare tire was a bit flat. So I had to call up AAA so someone could come by and give the spare tire some air. The AAA-rep said it would take maybe 20 minutes. I’m pretty sure we waited an hour, if not two, just so we could get that air. The next morning I brought the car to Les Schwab, where they put in some new tires. And that was that. From that point on, I was a lot more careful when driving. Especially if I had friends in the car.
I thought that would be the end of my car trouble, but noooooooooooo. It was just beginning. Skip to approximately a month later. I had driven across California to go work at Camp Ramah for my 10th year associated with the camp. The drive down was smooth. It was once I got there that was the problem. For those not familiar with the camp, let me explain the terrain. The entire camp is built on a hill. The bunks–where the youngest kids sleep, fight, and pick their noses–are on the top of this hill. The staff parking lot–where staff members smoke, eat In N Out, and pick their noises–is way beyond the bottom of the hill where it all flattens out. So that bunk counselors don’t have to shlep their luggage from the parking lot to the bunks, they temporarily park their cars at the top of the hill to move their stuff. As long as the cars are in the parking lot before the campers arrive, this is not a problem.
For those having troubles conceptualizing this
And of course, this was the problem. On the morning before all the campers were to arrive, I needed to move my car to the parking lot. I checked the cubby where I put my keys… except… wait… where were my keys? I searched frantically. I could not find them anywhere! But they had to be around. I knew I needed to find them quickly; rule of thumb is once something is lost at summer camp, it never turns up again (something I dealt with at least once each of those 10 years). I had no time to patiently search for them. I called up AAA again and asked if they could tow my car to the parking lot while meanwhile I’d wait for a spare car key to be sent from home. They said they do not cover that; the car can only be towed home or to a repair shop.
POINT OF ORDER.
Think of the fridge logic here. For free, AAA could tow my car to my house–a seven-hour drive give or take. However driving it approximately half a mile would cost me. Does anyone else see the flaw in the system?
END POINT.
AAA’s initial solution was to send in car locksmith, who could come in a few hours and create a new usable key for $150ish. Trying to hold onto my money like any good Jewish teen boy would (not to mention the kids would arrive in a few hours), I asked if there was any faster, cheaper alternative. Luckily there was: a third-party could tow it for about half the price. Good enough solution for me. The car was moved and I got to greet my amazing campers (even you, Aaron F) stress-free.
Sure enough, the next morning I found my keys hidden between two t-shirts. Considering there were a bunch of kids in the same room as me, I tried to curse as quietly as possible.
That was the end of my car trouble for the summer. Unfortunately it was not the end of my car trouble in 2009. Just wait until you read about what happened once I got to CHAPMAN UNIVERSITY. But we’ll save it for next time on Yamblings. Zeff out.