My van is stuck in the Wilson Farms parking lot around the block.
As sick as I am, in this weather I do not want to leave my van unused for a full day – I am kind of OCD when it comes to cars, double- and triplechecking if they are really locked, sometime going out at night to make sure they start. So I ran it a couple minutes and drove it a few blocks, stopping at Wilson Farms to cash some lottery tickets, which I save up for when I am particularly broke. And my car-start paranoia did in fact turn out to be real. Or more likely, as only a mother can tell the tiny signs that her baby isn’t entirely well, I had a feeling about my van lately, that you, sitting in the driver’s seat and turning the key, wouldn’t.
It was only when I stepped back out after about 10 minutes (okay, I bought some Little Debbie pastries, the worst food in the world, to placate myself in my sickly state) did I realize I had left my lights on – the stud in the doorjamb that trips the warning ding hadn’t gone off, it gets stuck in the cold.
The van clicks, the needles jump, the engine almost catches –
Right now I am back home, around the block, waiting for the AAA callback before stomping back out.
I wonder what studies have shown about how much more money it costs to drive in the North. The average extra cost winter imposes on us here.
Oh, AAA, by the way, I do not appreciate arguing with your phone service rep over the existence of the Wilson Farms at 175 Grant Street in Buffalo – literally.