Emergency At 27,984 Feet!

That's 5.3 miles. The distance from home to town.

Remember when Hick House tried to kill T-Hoe? I sure do! I was sort of getting over it. After all, nearly a week had gone by. A pretty good week, too! Time was starting to heal my perception of T-Hoe's wounds. Hick himself was inside the belly of that beast, putting up drywall around the kitchen flue, when I drove to Country Mart on Wednesday, to get him his special ice cream.

Let the record show that this ice cream is not special because it's permissible for diabetics. Nor because it's made from the finest ingredients, virtually a health food that assures long life. Nope. Hick's ice cream is special because that's the kind he likes. Individual cups of vanilla swirled with strawberry and chocolate. He had run out the previous evening, so I went to get more. Because I'm a getter like that.

I'd stopped by my pharmacy for prescription refills, and came into Country Mart's lot from the side entrance. My favorite parking spot in front of the store was open. I turned right, to pull in. Normally I come down an aisle across from this space, and pull straight in, without turning. Since I had a 90-degree turn now, I was a bit discombobulated with the depth of this slot. I let T-Hoe roll a little too far, and bumped the yellow concrete parking-space bumper. That's what they're for, you know! To let you feel when you're all the way in the space, without going too far.

It was just a gentle bump. Not like my long-ago friend who jumped the bumper while parking at an Ozark Mountain Daredevils concert. I put T-Hoe in PARK, turned him off, and went inside for the ice cream, along with some Peaches N Cream store-brand instant oatmeal (mine), flavored water (Hick's).

When I came out, it was just after 1:00. A stop by The Gas Station Chicken Store for my 44 oz Diet Coke, and my errands would be over. Time to chill in my dark basement lair with lunch and my magical elixir and some scratchers and New Delly. This was a short trip. I didn't leave Backroads. Just a five-mile trip to town for my essentials, then back home.

I wrote down my debit amount in the checkbook, started up T-Hoe, and looked behind me for traffic or pedestrians before backing out. WAIT A MINUTE! T-Hoe wouldn't get in gear! He was stuck again. I turned him off and tried again. Nope. I yanked the steering wheel side to side, in case it was somehow locked in position and preventing shifting. C'mon! It's not like I can run a System Restore on T-Hoe. Dang it! Hick's ice cream wasn't going to like this much. I called Hick. He interrogated me about what I was trying to do.  

"I'm just trying to move the shifter from PARK to REVERSE. It's stuck. Just like at the house. But I'm level. I bumped the concrete parking bumper, barely. I don't know if that has anything to do with it. I've driven this car for 10 years, and hit those bumpers way harder than this time, and this has never happened before."

"Okay. I'll be right there. The only other thing to do is call AAA, but I can be there faster."

I listened to the radio until it went off (after 15 minutes). I got out and looked at the front tires. They were touching the concrete bumper thingy. But neither was indented or misshapen by pressure against the concrete. I leaned against T-Hoe's front end. Tried to give him a push backwards. Man! He's as solid as a brick porch on a $5000 house! I tried to rock T-Hoe back and forth. I might have moved him half a millimeter. I jiggled my excess adipose tissue way more than I jiggled T-Hoe. I got back in, turned on the radio, and waited for my Knight in Gray Hoodie to arrive.

This was about the time Hick should get here. It had been 15 minutes since my call. I started T-Hoe and tried to put him in gear. Nothing. Turned him off, then back on, and tried again. Nope. I saw Hick turning on the side street, approaching me, past the Hardee's, past the Dairy Queen, past the rock that a lady got her car stuck on last summer, past my pharmacy, and into Country Mart's lot. He pulled up beside me, and parked just right for T-Hoe's door not to open all the way because of the location of SilverRedO's mirror.

Hick asked if I had T-Hoe in 4 Wheel Auto. No, I did not. Just in the regular 2 Wheel Drive like any other car driving around on non-slippery streets. I figured Hick might attach a strap or chain to T-Hoe's rear pulling things, and jolt him out of gear, like over at Hick House. Hick acted like he didn't believe T-Hoe was stuck in PARK. I clambered out, he climbed in, started T-Hoe up, and POPPED HIM RIGHT INTO REVERSE!

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT????"

"I just put it in gear, Val."

"I tried SO MANY TIMES! It was stuck! You must have really yanked on it! I didn't want to break it. It wouldn't move, anyway. But I didn't yank on it hard."

"I didn't use much force at all, Val."

"I can't believe you did that! I must have loosened it up for you! I just tried it two times when I saw you driving down the street."

"I don't know. It could have been a fluke. Your tire against the concrete, and you put it in park without taking your foot off the brake."

"You mean I'm supposed to have my foot off the brake when I put it in PARK? I don't think so! I would be rolling!"

"Not if you were against the concrete stopper. If you'd let off, the car would have rolled back a little and adjusted itself."

"Huh. I think you yanked it really hard, and I didn't. But you do have that PopArm, so it couldn't have been REAL hard..."

"See? I told you. There's not a lot of things that could go wrong. There's just cogs in the differential. Maybe T-Hoe is getting older, and they stick."

"Wouldn't they be all worn and smooth if he's older, and more likely to slip OUT of gear, instead of sticking?"

"Well. Maybe... or maybe it's in the shifter arm. Maybe it needs a little bit of oil."

"Will you oil my arm?"

"Yes, Val. I'll oil your arm."

"My blog buddy Linda said she had this problem with her car, and her husband fixed it with a paperclip. I don't know if she was joshin' me, or if he was joshin' her... is that even possible."

"No, Val. You can't fix it with a paperclip."

So sayeth my Knight in Gray Hoodie, having ridden to my rescue, assuring me he would pull into The Gas Station Chicken Store with me to make sure T-Hoe didn't act up again... and then left me at the light while he bypassed The Gas Station Chicken Store and went back to Hick House.

I have my suspicions that something is going wrong with T-Hoe's transmission. Hick doesn't seem to think so. I guess I'll take his word for it.  Because unlike the finer points of grammar and punctuation, assorted conspiracy theories, and trivial details concerning all episodes of Seinfeld... Val does not know much about cars.