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The...sigh...One With The Car

Okay, last time, I got onto the plane at Tampa. A few hours later, we were back in Texas, and specifically at Love Field. We were sort of exhausted, and we were definitely glad to be back on terra firma.


We collected up our luggage and headed out. Our original plan was to drive back to Georgetown that night. “Shouldn’t take us long,” we agreed with one another. “We’ll be home way before dark.”


Yeah, right.


Anyway, we walked over to the parking garage where we’d left the car. “Right,” I said, “what floor are we on?”



About the photos: First, one of my infamous videos (done with Runway). It is meant to show the sheer viciousness of certain cars in certain situations. Argh.



Now, remember, many a trip back...a long, long time ago...Martha and I parked at the Austin airport and then we couldn’t find the car afterwards, and we spent like a hour and and a half looking for it? In the heat? When we were tired? And Martha was still suffering from some mobility problems? And we swore we’d never park our car in a garage again without noting the exact location and taking pictures of the parking lot and the floor number?


Remember all that?


Okay, you wanna guess what we forgot to do when we parked the car? Huh? Wanna? I dare you. I double dog dare you. And woof to you, too.


We stood for a bit...looking sheepishly at one another...and then I left Martha at the door that links the airport to the garage and started circling the parking garage, going floor to freaking floor. As an aside, I was certain that we’d parked on the second floor. As another aside, Martha was certain we’d parked on the fourth floor. As a third aside (how many sides do I get?) we were both flat out wrong.


I walked and walked and walked. I circled. And circled. And circled. Nothing. I even took out my key fob and started pushing the alarm button. I figured the car would make a noise and I could track it. But...no...just silence.



I went back to Martha and she was getting tired by that time. Fortunately, we saw the office of the parking company and I went over to it and knocked on the door. A wonderfully nice lady who worked there (turned out she was from Ethiopia) took pity on us and got Martha into a seat in her office next to an air conditioner. Then she called a fellow who worked for the company -- his name was Steve -- to come in a pickup and we’d run around the garage until we saw our car.


Steve came. He was a very patient, very nice young fellow who’d clearly had experiences with forgetful boomers before. Again, we circled the garage, this time in the pickup truck. I had my hand out the window while I desperately pushed the alarm button. Again, nothing. Total silence.


Finally...after we’d been on every floor of garage...and I’d seen absolutely nothing...and I was beginning to wonder if the car had been hot-wired and was even now on its way to Putin Brothers Used Cars and Chop Shop in Norilsk...when, I said, “Let’s start all over. Let’s go to the first floor.” Even though I was certain...absolutely certain! ... it wasn’t there.


Steve obligingly took us down the ramps and...and...and...


Parked right next to the entrance...where you couldn’t miss it...big as life and plain as day...


Was our car.


I said several things then. They were very colorful things. They had zest. And pith. A verve. I will not repeat them. They might melt your monitor.


Steve let me out of the truck. He drove off. I popped into the car and I wondered why it hadn’t sounded its alarm when I was pushing the button on the key fob. Odd, I thought.


Then I turned the key to start the car.


It went...phissst. And click click click. And clunk.


Yes, folks...ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages...we’d left the lights on when we’d parked the car. The reason the alarm hadn’t gone off was that the d**m battery was dead as doornail.


Phooey, I said.


Anyway, I called Martha on my cellphone. She was still in the office of the nice lady, who laughed and called Steve, who drove back again, and then he laughed, and then gave our car a jump start.





Second, Martha looking terrific, as always.


And, so, finally...after all that...we were able to leave Love Field.


It was later than we’d hoped. But, there was still some light in the sky. So, we figured, there was a chance we could still make it home before bedtime. We hurried off to the freeway. We were sure we’d be fine.


Fortunately, exhaustion...and common sense... caught up with us in the town of Hillsboro.


Where I also had a bit of a revelation.


More to come.




Second, Martha looking terrific, as always.



Copyright©2023 Michael Jay Tucker



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Care to help out?


I provide these blog postings for free. That’s fine and I’m happy to do so. But, long ago and far away, I was told that if you give away your material, that means you don’t really think it has any value.


So, to get beyond that, I’ve decided to make it possible for you to leave me a “tip” for my posts.


If you like what I write or the videos I produce, and feel you could make a small contribution to support my efforts, please go here:


https://michaeljaytucker.gumroad.com/l/lzumj


That will take you to a Gumroad page where you’ll have the option of leaving me a few pence by way of encouragement.


Again, I don’t mind if you don’t. I just want to provide you with the option so that I won’t feel quite so much like I’m just tossing my works into the wind.


Either way, thanks hugely for dropping by the blog :-)


~mjt



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