Another Car Repair Story

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Two.
     This is my first blog, after a nice little vacation. More about the vacation later. But first, this is just too good...
     I planned on leaving Friday morning, August 15th at 8AM. The previous Tuesday, the 12th, at 3PM, I took my car to my mechanic, 2 short blocks from my apartment, to get an oil change which was 1000 miles overdue. He called me 15 minutes later with the news that I needed a new timing belt and transmission pan. Great. I picked up the car and then dropped it back off on Wednesday evening at 6PM. Tom said, "I'll have it ready tomorrow evening or sometime Friday morning".
     "No", I replied. "I'm leaving Friday at 8AM. I need it back Thursday night."
     "Okay, you'll have it back Thursday night." 
     I phoned him on Thursday at 5 to say I'd be by at 6, when they close, to pick up my machine.
     "It's taking longer than we thought. Give us a couple of extra hours."
     So I went over at 8 and sat for an hour 'till Tom and Mike finished. Prior to driving out at 9, I gave Tom a boatload of money. I appreciated that they each stayed 3 hours past closing so I could drive to New York the next morning and I told them so. I have an extremely good relationship with my mechanic, Tom, and his employees: Mike and Gary. I then drove the 2 blocks home and got ready for my get-a-way. 
     I woke up earlier than anticipated on Friday and pulled out of my parking lot, ready to go, at 6.30AM. (Leaving for a long road trip 90 minutes ahead of schedule, that early in the morning, qualifies me for a Nobel Prize in some category. I'm just not sure which one.) Within 100 feet though, I knew there was a problem. The machine didn't feel right at all. First, I was in denial. I figured that the new pieces simply had to "gel", which really isn't that bizarre. Sometimes when you have serious work done under the hood, it takes a few moments for everything to sound and feel normal again. But as I went to the bank and Starbucks and it wasn't getting better, I proceeded from denial to stubborn. "I don't care! I'm going anyhow." Then, as I was leaving the gas station and beauty salon (which I had to prep for the day) I went from stubborn to acceptance. "I don't f***ing believe this!"
     I then drove back to Tom's shop, parked in the lot, turned on the radio, WCLV - Cleveland's classical station, turned off the car, pushed the seat to full recline and went to sleep. This was at 6.50AM.
     I was rudely woken at 8.05 by Tom knocking on my window. "Jeremy, what are you doing here?" I explained the situation. He fiddled under the hood for a few moments and told me to drive around the block. It was a little bit better but not much. He then examined under the hood with all his experience as Mike drove up and stared at us. Apparently, Mike's expression was such that Tom then said to me, "Mike just threw up in his mouth."
     They fiddled under the hood for a while and 20 minutes later Tom declared that some very important hose split while all the work was being done the day prior. It had to be special ordered and then picked-up from Marshall Ford, way down Mayfield Road, which is under construction. I made myself comfy in his shop and phoned my NY hostess, declaring the problem.
     While I was sitting, drinking Starbucks and pretending to be driving to New York City, a lady walked in and declared that she was there for her oil change and tire rotation appointment. We talked for 90 minutes or so while her car was happily being adjusted, without incident, after which she handed me her business card and suggested that I apply for a job with her very large company which was hiring. We agreed that we'd talk at some point in the near future.
     At 11.15AM, Tom declared that the hose had been replaced and I'd gotten a tune-up, all for free. I appreciated that. Ethically speaking though, that really is what he should have done. But still, there appears to be such a lack of ethics in today's work place, that when someone actually displays it, there's and air or refreshment. I felt it.
     I called my New York host and hostess (whom I hadn't laid eyes on since 1995) after getting on the freeway at 11.30. They were cool with the delay. I pulled in their driveway at 7.30PM and met their extremely lovely 15 year old daughter whom I've been sending Valentine's cards to since she was born and also met the family dog whom I'm now friends with on Facebook. Literally. The dog has his own Facebook page with a couple hundred friends. I'd describe this family as "wacky" except for the fact that he's a cardiologist and they live in Pelham Manor. (Peham Manor is a rather swanky and chic suburb of NY.) I wasn't exactly roughing it.
     I just LOVE seeing long-time friends. 

Gomorran Stew

     Page Sixty-Seven.
     Some time ago, I was traveling in the Middle-East. I'd stayed in Gomorrah for a couple of days and then I went on to Sodom. As those two cities were known for not being hospitable to strangers, I was a bit nervous about visiting them. But like so much gossip and hearsay, my experiences were nowhere near as bad as I was anticipating. In fact, I did actually make some friends with whom I stayed in contact for many years following.
     I was staying in hostels on my trip, just to save money, and one night in Sodom, my roommate was Florence Nightingale. We talked until all hours. Then, on another night, I had two roommates, Thomas Jefferson and Angela Davis, who were traveling companions. (I was really surprised by how much they argued, considering the fact that they chose to travel together.) While staying in Gomorrah one night I met Rudolph Valentino. He wasn't staying in my room but he was in another room on my floor and I met him downstairs in the lobby. (Everybody was fawning all over him but he didn't seem to mind.)
     The highlight of the trip though, was one evening when I was out dancing at a disco in Gomorrah. I happened to meet a young women named Pipsi who was in University to become a social worker. She'd just taken her finals earlier that day and was out blowing off steam. We got to talking and she mentioned that she wanted to work with disturbed youth. I told her of my experiences as a live-in nanny and we instantly had much in common. (Though none of the kids I've even nannied were certifiably "disturbed", working so closely with youth is a distinction, none-the-less.) After the disco closed we went to this little place around the corner. It was really a hole-in-the-wall, but it was the only place that was open, so in we went.
     Pipsi ordered some taco-style pizza and I got some stew. Well, I have to tell you this was some of the best stew I've ever had in my life. I simply inhaled the stuff. It was too good for words. I just couldn't figure out what it was about the stuff, so I asked the waiter. He told me that this stew was one of the house's signature dishes and it was really very well known. In fact, every time Genghis Khan came to town he ordered it for his entire army. The stew was served with hot, seeded rye bread and a very good side salad which was unusual in that it was topped with cold, cooked green beans, peas, asparagus and feta cheese.
     But, really, I couldn't get over how good the stew was. After much badgering, the waiter finally gave me the secret. (The waiter knew 'cause his father was the chef/owner of the joint.) Here it is:
     Fry up a few pieces of bacon. Then remove the bacon to a separate dish and add one whole sliced onion to the bacon fat and saute until glossy. (If there isn't enough bacon fat to comfortably saute, add a little butter to the pan.) While the onions are cooking, chop the bacon into small pieces. When the onion is done, add it along with the bacon to a typical stew recipe. Then to the stew add one can of beer, one tablespoon of brown sugar and a few shakes of caraway seeds. Cook this stew for a normal amount of time, until the beef is tender. (If your stew recipe calls for onions omit them, because of the cooked onions you've just added. Also, omit some of the cooking liquid from your recipe 'cause of the 12 ounces of beer in the Gomorran recipe.)
     That's it. I'm telling you, this combination of stuff is deadly good.
     I kept in touch with Pipsi for a while, but she eventually married and moved to Machu Picchu to work with Incan youth. Just recently we friended each other on Facebook and she wants me to come for a visit. Maybe one of these days...