Posting today was much delayed by an early start occasioned by my car going into the shop, followed by what I am embarrassed to admit was my first motor scooter commute of the year.
A slightly scary commute, too, headed to the North Campus in gusty winds: three bridges and one overpass, not including the canal, and doesn't the wind just howl at every crossing! But I made it, with a very heavily-laden scooter: purse, briefcase, lunch box plus some parts for the too-often-ignored machinery at that site.
An hour shy of lunchtime, the garage called. My car was done. Took it in for routine service plus what sounded like a hole in the exhaust system, possible brake issues and a sidelight that needs replaced (someone scraped it and broke it. I have the new part but it's a mystery how to install it). So, what was the verdict? Brakes, a-okay. Exhaust, just a little flex section that needed replaced. Oil change, fine. Light, oh hells no, you have to pull the entire bumper cover; their advice was, "Have a body shop do it." Cost of all that was reasonable. But there was one more thing wrong: tires.
The tires have been questionable for some time: deep cracks in the sidewalls. Yeah, deep dry rot: they were dying of old age. They also weren't very grippy, even for little-old-lady, city-driving values of "grippy." It's an RX300, with big SUV-sized wheels, and that meant I dropped about six and a half C-notes on new shoes for baby. Ouch.
Big ouch. Beats the heck out of skidding sideways through an intersection saying bad words, or trying to change a tire by the side of the road with the delightful kit of tools found in most modern cars. Gotta go back in Monday or Tuesday and have 'em check lug nut torque, just to be on the safe side.
Anyway, I was happy to avoid evening rush hour on two wheels; I left most of the cargo at work, scootered home and Tam ran me to garage, where I picked up my now-quiet car and returned to work. Wow, it's like driving a Lexus or something.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago