MY SON, MY HERO, THE FIXER OF EVERYTHING
Let it be said right up front that, except for a very short visit to North Carolina, I have not been out of Georgia for several years. Let it also be said that, although I enjoy many things about living in Georgia, I do not wish to spend the rest of my days looking at only the local Georgia sights; however, one does what one must when a family member’s health is at stake.
So it was with a great deal of excitement that I recently found myself planning a trip with Carl’s cousin while Carl was to stay at home under the watchful eyes of Scott, Greg, and the neighbors. The purpose of the trip was to try to convince a gentleman I’d never met to give up a DNA sample to solve a long-standing Atkins family mystery.
Cousin Pat would be dropped off shortly after noon on a Saturday, we would spend the night with my friends, Karen and Rick, in North Carolina, proceed on our way, and drive back home on the following Thursday.
I decided to pack the car and back it into the driveway in order to make a fast getaway when Pat arrived. All was well until I backed out and heard an ominous CRUNCH. I pulled forward, got out of the car, looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and backed out again. CRUNCH. I pulled forward again, walked all around the car this time and realized I had attempted to go through the garage door with the back car door open. Twice. There was no way that car door was going to shut and neither was the garage door. Meanwhile, Pat called to say she was ten minutes away.
What to do?????
First I reluctantly told Carl. Let’s just say my news did not get a warm reception.
Second I called Scott who said he would be right over. He came and decided he would be able to fix the garage door and make the car door close if he had the right tools so off to his house he went.
Pat and her husband arrived to find Carl in a very unforgiving mood.
Scott came back with his tools. I decided we would take the other car because we didn’t have time to wait for Scott’s repair if we wanted to make it to North Carolina before dark. We took everything out of Car #1 and put it into Car #2. Carl reminded me I would have to gas up............if I could manage to miss the gas pumps.
Just as we got Car #2 loaded, Scott announced that the door was closed and all he had to do was apply some “NASCAR tape” so we wouldn’t be annoyed by wind whistle while on the trip. That’s my son - trying to introduce a little humor into this touchy situation. He proceeded to tape the window. His intended humor fell on deaf ears.
I then decided to take Car #1 after all because it doesn’t use premium gas and I wouldn’t have to bother to gas up before North Carolina (while managing to miss the gas pumps). Pat’s husband patiently took everything out of one trunk and reloaded it into the other while Carl wondered aloud if any of us had ever watched “The Three Stooges.”
So it was with a great deal of excitement that I recently found myself planning a trip with Carl’s cousin while Carl was to stay at home under the watchful eyes of Scott, Greg, and the neighbors. The purpose of the trip was to try to convince a gentleman I’d never met to give up a DNA sample to solve a long-standing Atkins family mystery.
Cousin Pat would be dropped off shortly after noon on a Saturday, we would spend the night with my friends, Karen and Rick, in North Carolina, proceed on our way, and drive back home on the following Thursday.
I decided to pack the car and back it into the driveway in order to make a fast getaway when Pat arrived. All was well until I backed out and heard an ominous CRUNCH. I pulled forward, got out of the car, looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and backed out again. CRUNCH. I pulled forward again, walked all around the car this time and realized I had attempted to go through the garage door with the back car door open. Twice. There was no way that car door was going to shut and neither was the garage door. Meanwhile, Pat called to say she was ten minutes away.
What to do?????
First I reluctantly told Carl. Let’s just say my news did not get a warm reception.
Second I called Scott who said he would be right over. He came and decided he would be able to fix the garage door and make the car door close if he had the right tools so off to his house he went.
Pat and her husband arrived to find Carl in a very unforgiving mood.
Scott came back with his tools. I decided we would take the other car because we didn’t have time to wait for Scott’s repair if we wanted to make it to North Carolina before dark. We took everything out of Car #1 and put it into Car #2. Carl reminded me I would have to gas up............if I could manage to miss the gas pumps.
Just as we got Car #2 loaded, Scott announced that the door was closed and all he had to do was apply some “NASCAR tape” so we wouldn’t be annoyed by wind whistle while on the trip. That’s my son - trying to introduce a little humor into this touchy situation. He proceeded to tape the window. His intended humor fell on deaf ears.
I then decided to take Car #1 after all because it doesn’t use premium gas and I wouldn’t have to bother to gas up before North Carolina (while managing to miss the gas pumps). Pat’s husband patiently took everything out of one trunk and reloaded it into the other while Carl wondered aloud if any of us had ever watched “The Three Stooges.”
Off we went with no further mishaps. When we were approximately half an hour from our North Carolina destination, Pat observed that our overhead lights were on. I said Scott probably turned them on while he was messing with the car and I would turn them off when we arrived rather than fooling with them while driving.
We arrived as planned, got a warm welcome with lots of hugs, and then I discovered THE OVERHEAD LIGHTS WOULD NOT GO OUT. After reading the manual which was no help at all, and pushing every imaginable button with no results, Rick finally got the lights to go out. What a relief!
Dinner was lovely and so was our visit. At 11:30 p.m. we decided we’d better call it a day so we went out to retrieve our luggage. The overhead lights came back on and this time it was apparent they were on to stay. Rick’s suggestion was to get up every two hours and run the engine for awhile in order to keep the battery from going dead. Since I couldn't imagine doing that for one night, not to mention several days and nights, I bit the bullet and called Carl. He said the only solution was to disconnect the negative battery cable every time we stopped the car - except for short stops.
Here is where I must admit I have never opened the hood of a car and Rick was familiar with only Chevrolets. Half an hour later, the hood was open, Rick had found a perfect small wrench, and disconnected the battery cable, promising to lend me the wrench and give me lessons before we proceeded on our way in the morning. Karen provided us with a piece of cardboard to put between the cable and the battery to keep the two from inadvertently touching. After our morning lesson, I was in charge of unhooking and rehooking. Pat was in charge of cardboard. Thus prepared, off we went.
By the end of our trip, I became an expert at hood opening and battery cables and Pat became an expert at inserting cardboard. We made quite a team. She would also be an expert at hood opening and battery cables if I had allowed her to practice. Maybe next time.
The good news is that Carl missed me so much after a couple of days that he got his good nature back. The better news is that Scott fixed the garage door before he went home the first night and he & Greg recommended replacing the car door with one from the junk yard since both of them are experts at car restoration. In all honesty, this may have been part of the reason Carl’s good nature came back. The even better news is that Scott fixed the overhead lights the day after I returned home and he has now replaced the car door.
And the best news of all is that Pat and I managed to convince a very nice gentleman to give two relative strangers a sample of his DNA although he was extremely reluctant to do so in the beginning. And I am really hoping this stranger proves to be a relative. Mission accomplished!
But that’s another story.
