It’s been a little over a month since we bought The Little Red Wagon. I knew that I would eventually see our Wonder-Man Mechanic and his 3rd Generation Mechanic son, but I wasn’t expecting to need to call them so soon.

I have this character flaw that drives Dancer-husband crazy. I don’t take the time to tighten the caps on things. Veganaise, Ketchup, Salad Dressing. When I need to hit the sauce, I want easy access, so I always leave them a little loose.

Since our trip to Manitoba, I’ve only fueled up twice. Once to get me to the U to teach (no lectures, please) and then yesterday after I went to visit Dr. Voodoo our New-Age Chiropractor in Excelsior, on fumes.

It played out like this:

Dancer – Husband: “We need to get gas before you go anywhere.”

Me: Thought flit and float from side to side in my Lyme-brain and now they are. . . .GONE!

Start the car. Already late. Mad about the lack of petrol.

Drive from Northeast Minneapolis past the West side of Excelsior.

Me: “Say a prayer, Big One.”

I’ve just been interrupted by The Big One for an important announcement.

“You actually said, ‘Cross your fingers’, Mom.”

My apologies.

We made it there, we got our Voodoo treatment and supplements and zipped across the highway and parked under the canopy. It read: “Thousands of Iraqis died for your senseless trips.” We purchased gas and truly did say a prayer. I swear I closed the gas cap. Or, at least I think I did. I love that volvo caps are permanently attached. I’ve lost a cap or two in my driving days. Today, on my way to hang out with the Step-Rock-Steppers, I saw the light.

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Dancer-Husband called Volvo-Grandpa’s office, talked with Volvo son and he told us to check the gas cap, drive it for a week and see if it resets itself. Cross your fingers for the reset.

I’ve missed my mechanic.

If you need your volvo serviced, please bring it to the Glasgow family. They’ll treat your car like it was their own. They still give you a bill, but it is reasonable and you feel good about the business you are supporting.

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