This is my bus. It is the penance I must partake for the folly of a botched oil change in my 1979 Mercedes in January of 2010. At dusk on a dreary January Sunday, I frantically changed the oil in my newly purchased "classic" Mercedes. The small rubber gasket that squeezes between the lid and metal canister holding the filter was not seated properly. Because I was in a hurry and did not bother with proper lighting, I did not realize my error until three weeks later when the engine simply stopped working. My sickening stomach could not overrule the law of friction. No amount of regret could fix frozen pistons or bent tie rod. So penance draws near to my carelessness. Now I am in debt to a friend who is rebuilding my engine, to an Orca card for bus fair, and to One-Bus-Away for keeping me on schedule. One thing for sure, I have slowed down. One does not hurry while riding a bus.
6 comments:
Ouch, I read this to my husband and he is feeling your pain. I really like these sentences: "My sickening stomach could not overrule the law of friction. No amount of regret could fix frozen pistons or bent tie rod." I have been in that situation before. If only we could undo time.
Love the last two lines. They definitely communicate a bigger idea than the details seem like they are adding up to create. And I love the fishbowl effect on your bus pic.
Great slice! Bummer about the oil change but what a great opportunity for writing.
Oh boy, the cost of hurrying up. Your "no amount of regret " phrase captured my attention and perhaps the cost is not so great if it produced this writing, penance and a serious pace change.
Oh the pain that comes with learning from our mistakes, especially the costly ones. Try to savor the slowing down. We could all use a dose of slowing down. Your last line made me chuckle...one does not hurry while riding a bus. Hmmm...must be why we are always waiting for a couple buses at our school!
I've lived this one, but from the side of gripping the steering wheel while the back window filled with a gooey black substance as the oil flew out of that gaskety-place. I coasted down to a gas station, where my then-husband picked me up. It was his first--and last--attempt to change the oil in the car (and that's not why he's the ex.)
Sinking feeling not only in the stomach but also in the bank account--those rebuilding of engine events are pricey little suckers.
One of my friends used to take her daughter on the bus once a year to do all her errands to reinforce to the child the luxury of having an automobile. I guess you won't ever need that kind of reminding.
Hope there is some benefit to the forced use--maybe a little more reading time here and there?
Elizabeth E.
http://peninkpaper.blogspot.com
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