Rarely do I take pictures of my car, but for some reason I did this morning, a silver car on a cool, silver-gray day near the ocean. My errands were finished and I was going for a drive, then a walk, after sipping fresh-squeezed orange juice at an outdoor cafe (despite it being a mere three miles from my home, I hadn't known the place was there). It was a terrific morning of quiet solitude... just a girl, her walking shoes, and her wheels.Little did I know that a couple of hours later, my beloved cat-car would be on a Jeri-Dan flat bed tow truck on its way to Coventry Cars. Truth is stranger than fiction, and twice as ironic sometimes: I was organizing my impressions of Sunday's Grand Prix de Monaco to write for a blog post when my car lost power.
The "engine safe mode" light immediately came on, which explained why I could go no faster than 10 MPH, and I limped to safety, hazard lights on.
The car had just been tuned up and had been running fine, which could only mean one thing: something seriously expensive had probably just failed.
Even so, not all news is bad. To wit:
1. AAA was able to get a tow truck to the scene within ten minutes.
2. I have 7 mile towing coverage, and my car repair service was precisely 6.8 miles away from where I pulled over.
3. The repair shop was going to close early today, but I got there in time and they took in my poor car. They also gave me a ride to Enterprise car rental.
Meanwhile, back in Monaco...
to be continued
2 comments:
A convertible. How utterly appropriate for a California dreamer. And is that a Jaguar? I should have guessed you'd drive such a splendid manifestation of exquisite taste. Well done on both counts.
Why, thank you. I wanted a Jag ever since I was 16, criticisms be damned. Its purchase a couple of years ago involved far more luck than money, a 1999 XK8 in near-showroom condition with less than 10,000 miles on it. The owner was a friend with young kids; they used their SUV while the Jag just sat in their garage.
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