03 January 2020

It Smells Like Onions

In case you're wondering how the parents have been, let me tell you.  Get a cuppa, with a shot of whiskey.  Someone around here needs to drink and I can't.

Their van broke down a week ago.  Kevin arranged to have our friend the mechanic look at it and to have it dropped off that day.  Kevin then told his parents that we had errands to do and we would let them know when to leave so we could meet them at the mechanics after our errands were done.

We had accomplished lunch and no errands when Kevin's dad phones to tell us he's waiting at the mechanic's shop.

We finished one errand, disagreed about finishing the second one, didn't, and went to pick him up.

The mechanic is Kevin's childhood best friend.  He's doing us a favor because it's Kevin's dad.  But he's a busy guy so there wasn't a clear timeline as to when we could retrieve the van. Plus the holidays are a thing.  However, by the end of the day, Kevin's dad told him that it would be ready Tuesday.  We don't know where Tuesday came from.  Neither does the mechanic.

It is an electrical problem that started suddenly.  The mechanic called and asked if anything else had been happening with the van.  No.  Wait, the passenger door lock doesn't work.  Fast forward about an hour and "I forgot, the back door doesn't work. You hit the switch and it open then closes repeatedly."

Otherwise, it's perfect. It's like explaining to the doctor that your head hurts then hours later mentioning that your nose bleeds when you bend over.

Today, Friday and not Tuesday, he phoned Kevin (who is at work today) to see if they could use my truck. (actually a SUV, we just call it a truck.  Or "the station wagon")  At 9:00 am, for an 11:30 appointment.   He had to hang up, phone me,  get the answer (No, because I had plans) then phone his dad again.

Instead of the f-i-l either calling ME or walking the fifty feet to ask.  Or going yesterday when I was home ALL DAY.

Keeping up?

If they had let me know earlier, I could have rearranged my plans. Or I would have been clear-minded enough to take Kevin's big truck instead.  But planning ahead is not something that is possible anymore.  Everything is either an emergency or inconvenient.

Instead, they borrowed the neighbor's SUV.  (my sister-in-law's father)  The one that he slid into our fence in the snow about a year ago.

Kevin asked his dad if he had talked to the mechanic. Yes.  What did he say?  He didn't know. Did you ask him what the next step was? No.  Why?  *No reason given*

Now Kevin has to call the mechanic to get a timeline.  I suggested he leave it but we know that's not an option. That's just frustration talking. Because I return to work on Monday, something has to be resolved by then.

To clarify: they can use my truck, they just have to give me a heads up, and they have.  While we were on our road trip, they took it without asking.  YEAH.

"What did you need in town?" Kevin asked.

"Oh, she wanted a burger." his dad replies.

*blink* *blink*

a) she shouldn't be eating a burger and I doubt that she ate more than a few bites at most.
2) how about we NOT steal my truck?
c) THEY ATE IN MY TRUCK

Kevin asked, not without a little incredulousness, "So, you ate in her truck?"

"Oh, yes.  It's fine though.  We shook out the mats (they didn't) and ran the seats back and forth to make sure we didn't leave a mess."

DEEP SIGH.

We took the truck the next day and the smell of onions wafted out as I opened the passenger door. I squinted at Kevin across the truck and he just quietly said "I know..."

And, while I'm ranting about this: they took it twice and didn't put gas in it.  To prevent me from sounding like a complete ass, it is not a gas mileage rig.  Town is 20 miles away one way and they don't ever make just one stop.  So we're looking at a little less than 100 miles.  It's not just a few blocks down the street.

AND, and, and.  While I was in town this morning, I passed my father-in-law and guess what he was doing? Putting gas in the borrowed SUV.  Sigh.  Maybe it was empty, that's what I'm choosing to think.

Because my tank is full.  Actually and metaphorically.

I just about clicked "Publish" and Kevin phoned.  "Mom wanted to know if we knew anything about the van."  Followed by "Well, your dad is frustrated because the mechanic talks to you and not him."  Cue: Kevin's head exploding.

That, my friends, are how the parents are doing.


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