Because They Don’t Want
To
I love my wife, I really do.
Those of you who follow my writing know that the current model is wife
2.0. Because there was a 1.0, I know
just how truly blessed I am with 2.0.
But…..
2.0 recently traveled to the very edge of the state for a
mission trip and of course, the automobile surrendered. Several phone calls to dealers, mechanics,
Triple A, etc, resulted in the car being towed across state lines to the
nearest dealer for a very expensive repair.
That, of course, is when I got involved.
Several calls to the dealer “tomorrow, we promise” and no part. Internet research and multiple calls to other
dealers reveal the part for the 11 year old car is on national back order and
200 are expected in three months. We are
395 on the list. For the 200 that “should”
be available in three months.
2.0 is not happy. It
is very hot on the mission trip and the plumbing is suspect. Son 1.0 is unhappy because it is really his
car. Both want to know what I am going
to do about it. Please note that I didn’t
take the car on the trip and I didn’t break it.
But, what am I going to do about it?
It turns out that many years ago (multiple decades) I had a
job that required purchasing salvage auto parts. So, multiple calls later, I’ve located the
part at a salvage yard. But, the yard is
short handed and they can’t pull the part until very late in the day. It is a 4 hour drive to the current location
of the car and I must deliver the part because the dealer isn’t allowed to
purchase used parts directly. Well, as
noted above, many years ago I spent years in and around salvage yards; so,
white shirt, dress pants, tie, and I go to the salvage yard and retrieve the
part (a very large hard to get at part).
I load the part in my car and because the site of the mission trip is on
the way to the dealership, and because I really, really, hate driving alone, I
asked 2.0 if she would ride the last hour with me. You know, one hour over, one hour back. Keeping me company for two of the seven hours
I would drive to deliver the part fo her car.
In addition to the three hours retrieving the part in the first
place. Because, I really really hate
driving alone. Seven hours. Alone.
Well it went like this.
“Honey, will you ride with me to the dealer?” “No.”
I really hate driving alone and I am making this trip for you.” “No.”
Well, I drove three and one half hours to deliver the part to the dealer
in the next state and about 30 minutes into the return trip, 2.0 calls to ask
if I will divert on the return trip and bring her home, early, because it is
really hot on the mission trip and because she really really wants to come home
early. So, despite the message above,
and because she is 2.0, yes, I made the trip.
If you are wondering about the title to this story, it is
the answer to the following question: “Why
don’t husbands outlive their wives….”
