Tuesday, 22 September 2009

• It's all Mike C's Fault.

  Cars are, in Mr. W's words, "A necessary evil."  I don't know what I would do without them, but they have a nasty habit of breaking down just when you need them.
  
  Yesterday at school, everything was going well.  We had some great discussion in class regarding the "Old and New History". Afterwards, we had a little reception to welcome my cohort of new graduate students to the UConn History Department. After half an hour or so of chat, I left, rode the bus up to the commuter lot, and headed off home. 
  
  I was just coming down the hill on 195 towards 32 with the clutch in when I glanced at the speedometer. It was resting at "0" even though I was clearly going about 35mph. The light went green, and I let out the clutch to pick up speed. Nothing happened. Startled, I stuck the clutch back in, and let the car coast around the corner until it came to a stop 1/10th of a mile past the intersection. I put the car in neutral, and let go of the clutch. The car died.
  
  Okay, I thought to myself, this is strange. I started the car, released the ignition, and it died again. I kept trying for a couple minutes, hoping by some extraordinary circumstance the Honda would start and run. Nothing happened.  I called Dad. "Hi, Dad," I said when he answered.
  
  "Hi,  Michelle," he said. I could hear the query and amusement in his voice. "How are you?"
  
  "Well, I'm fine," I answered.
  
  There was a pause on the other end. "What happened to the car?"
  
  I explained the situation, and Dad told me he and Mom would drive down to CT in order to rescue me.  He suggested I call the W's, since they live not ten minutes from where I was stranded, and see if Mr. W knew any good mechanics in the area. After realizing I didn't have the W's phone number in my cellphone (which was blinking "battery low" at me the whole time), I called back, and got the number (which is now safely saved in my contacts). I called the W's house, and talked to Mrs. W, who said she would get Mr. W to come and find me.
  
  Isn't it wonderful to have church family spread out across central New England? Especially those who are willing to come and help a stranded motorist with only a moment's notice? I am very thankful for the W family in many different ways.
  
  After sitting in the car for a few minutes, Mr. W arrived. He looked at the engine, tried starting the car, and shook his head.  "I'm not sure..." he said. Okay, I thought. This may not be good. Mr. W and I had a little conversation while waiting for my parents to come. Alea, one of my fellow grad students, stopped by on her way home to make sure everything was alright. I tried to assure her things were as undercontrol as we could make them, and she headed on her way.
  
  Dad and Mom arrived after a little while, and talked to Mr. W about the car, and to which garage we should bring it. We ended up pushing the Honda across 32, and parking it in the Durham Bus Services parking lot for the night. After bidding Mr. W farewell, the three of us drove up to Tony's Garage, where we left the key in one of their envelopes. Then we drove home.
  
  I was so tired last night after returning, that I went straight to bed.
  
  Now, you are all wondering what this has to do with the Mike C mentioned in the title.  Well, at the new grad student reception, as he was leaving, Mike wished me a happy commute home.
  
  Thanks, Mike.
  
  

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