Monday, August 20, 2007
I knew there was something wrong. The last time I had trouble accelerating, my car needed a new clutch. "I can't need a new clutch already!" I thought. But still, I knew there had to be something seriously wrong -- and what timing! -- two weeks before a *major* road trip. We went into Concord to drop off a printing job and stopped for coffee. "I'm having trouble accelerating. I don't know what's wrong," I said to Rachel, who accompanied me into town. "Is it your clutch?" she asked. "I hope not," I said. "Maybe I'll check my oil!" I said, feeling somewhat hopeful that perhaps that was the problem, and pulled into the gas station across the way. There was barely a space to park in and a mechanic stood right next to the one feasible spot. I shouted to him as I pulled in, "I'm just going to check my oil!" He sauntered back to the garage and returned with a dirty rag just as I pulled the stick out. And then... he was distracted by something. "What's that?" he said. "What?" I asked, not noticing anything unusual. And then I saw them. Donuts. Four donuts stacked amidst the innards of my vehicle. I was shocked. Never before had I seen such a thing. Knowing my co-workers have a tendency to be pranksters I asked aloud, "Do you think someone put these donuts in my car?" "It was probably an animal," he said confidently as he removed the donuts and sauntered back to the garage chuckling. We laughed as I drove out of the station, relieved to find my car running smoothly sans pastries.