It’s no secret that I’m 46 years old and I’m still a daddy’s girl.
Spider issues? No problem! Call my daddy.
Car Trouble? No problem! Call my daddy.
Broken garbage disposal? No problem! Call my daddy.
That being said, my father happens to be away on vacation at the moment. In fact, he left on Monday. So of course, a strange orange light started blinking inside the dashboard of my truck on my way into work Tuesday morning.
Fuck! Maybe if I ignore that stupid light, it will just go away.
And it did.
And I was relieved.
It wasn’t the dreaded check engine light.
And it wasn’t the low break-fluid light.
So I simply forgot about it.
Sadly? On my way home the roads were slippery, and icy, and it was raining cats n dogs. And the mysterious orange light – shaped like an exclamation point, inside of a broken circle, with weird squiggles at the bottom – started blinking, and blinking, and blinking some more. Then it stopped blinking and stayed on for quite some time.
What the fuck is this with this light? OMG. It’s so dark. And I can’t see. And it’s all rainy. And my car feels like it’ sliding off the road. And I can’t very well check the owner manual or Google right now. Please for the love of g-d, just let me get home safe!
Barreling through my front door – I immediately Googled “blinking orange exclamation point inside 2016 Hyundai Santa Fe dashboard” and this image popped up:
Motherfucker! I have NO IDEA how to put air into my tires. I don’t even know how to pump my own gas! I’m a Jersey Girl. Fer Fuck Sakes! Do I need air in all of my tires? One tire? Two tires? Which tires? That light doesn’t tell me! OMG. What should I do? I don’t want to call and/or bother my dad. He’s on vacation. I guess I’ll just put on my big girl pants and figure something out in the morning. Besides it pouring rain and I really don’t want to go gas station hopping right now.
Wednesday morning, I had forgotten about the light.
Again.
Until I was pulling out of my driveway and it started blinking.
Again.
FML
First, I stopped at Quick Check. Surly one of the gas attendants could help me. Right?
I asked the dude, “Hey…um…so there’s this light in my dashboard telling me my tires are low, but I don’t know what tire, or if it’s more than one tire that’s low, and I don’t know how to fill them with air…Maybe, like, could you help me, PLEASE?”
Gas attendant guy said, “I would love to, but I’m the only one here…I can’t walk all the way over to the other side of the lot, which is where the air pump is located.”
My eyes darted around and every pump was full of cars. “Oh, right. Damn. Morning rush-hour. Thanks, yo.”
And then, as if by magic, I saw another man arrive at the air pump and started filling his own tire. I raced over to him and explained my dilemma. He agreed to help me and I offered to buy him a cup of coffee in exchange for his troubles. I ran back to my truck and drove over to the air-pump-thingy and that’s precisely when things went downhill.
The machine went ‘out-of-service’ – just completely stopped working – while the guy was attempting to fill his own nearly flat tire. He started cursing about being late, needing to get his kids to the school-bus-stop, and a how shitty his morning had been. I said, “I am so sorry, Sir. Thanks, anyway. I hope you get your tire fixed easily and have a better rest of the day.” And high-tailed it out of there.
The orange exclamation point light would not stop BLINKING, BLINKING, BLINKING as I made my way to the next Gas Station.
Please, Lord. Let this gas station throw some air into my tires and let me get to work on time, alive. K. Thanks. Bye.
I pulled in and rolled down my window. I announced my situation to the attendant who took one look at my panic stricken face and said, “Oh, I am so sorry Ma’am, our air-pump broke on Monday. We’re waiting to get it fixed.”
SON! OF! A! BITCH!
Now what the fuck am I going to do? I don’t know if there are any other gas stations on this route? I’ve never paid attention to that before. Can one of my tires explode from low-pressure? Am I going to end up in a ditch on the side of the road? Will I become stranded with a flat-tire? Thank goodness I have AAA. But are they even open now, because of the pandemic? I guess I’ll just drive really slowly, and pray I find another gas station on my way to work? I hope I’m not going to be late!
I turned my radio off, as if that would help me spot the next gas station easier. I drove five miles under the speed limit, with my hazards on, pissing off every poor driver behind me – on their own mad-dash to work.
After what seemed like forever and a day, I caught a glimpse of a Raceway gas station on the horizon.
EUREKA I’M SAVED!
I rolled in, pulled up to the air pump, and jumped out of my car…
“Excuse me, Sir!” I shrieked, “There’s this light on my dashboard, and my tires need air, but I don’t know how do it, and I don’t know what tires are low, and I am going to be late to work, and I was already at two other places and, OMG, please, I need air … HELP ME, KIND SIR!!”
“FIVE DOLLARS.” He shouted.
“Five dollars? Um… Ok. FINE BY ME.”
“Cash! Do you have five dollars? Cash?”
I opened my wallet. “No. I don’t have any cash. Do you have an ATM?”
He pointed, “Go to Wawa. Across the highway.”
“Sir, but I’m late,” I pleaded, “and I would have to take two jug handles, and wait for two lights, and that’s like adding another 10-15 minutes of my time, can’t you just swipe my card? Who carry’s cash anymore, anyway?”
“Cash.”
“FINE!”
But instead of wasting my time dealing with jug-handles, and red lights, and U-turns, and possibly getting a flat-tire?
I just ran.
I ran straight across the highway.
A FOUR LANE HIGHWAY.
Regardless of oncoming traffic.
AND HOPPED THE CONCRETE DIVIDER.
I hit the Wawa ATM.
And then I ran back across the highway within 6 minutes.
I handed the attendant five dollars, he filled all four tires with air, and then had the audacity to ask me if I was single and could he have my phone number?
I thanked him and lied.
I told him I was married.
And then I drove off as fast as I could.
And you would think that would be the end of the story.
Right?
WRONG!
Not more than two miles down the street, unbeknownst to me, there was massive Road Construction and my normal morning route to work was detoured.
OMG. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I HATE DETOURS. I don’t like NOT knowing where I am going. Now I have to pull the fuck over AGAIN and load my WAZE app, just in case the detour signs are wrong! And good lord, what time is it? I think I can still make it on time to work? IS IT A FULL MOON? IS MERCURY IN RETROGRADE? WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY? UGH!
I finally arrived at work.
On. Time.
Hallelujah.
We were so busy; I never sat down for a break, or even ate lunch, and before I knew it, it was closing time.
I got into my car.
Put on my seatbelt.
Turned on the radio.
Plugged my iPhone into the charger.
Lit a cigarette.
And drove away.
Less than ten minutes into my drive home …
ORANGE EXCLAMATION POINT LIGHT
BLINKING!
BLINKING!
BLINKING!
BLINKING!
Yeah.
Um.
So…
Guess I’ll have to look into THAT tomorrow.
That’s all for now, folks.
Stay, tuned.
Love,
M
