Since we are too cheap to hire a regular weekly garbage pick-up, we take our trash to a near-by transfer station. Along with the trash goes our recycling, a pail of compost material, yard waste, any clothes we may want to get rid of, and anything that we may want to leave in the Reuse Shed. Sometimes we have all the other stuff and no real trash so it’s a free drop off and we do our bit for the green life while keeping excess clutter at bay.
Today I loaded up the car and made the three mile trip to the transfer station. I disposed of everything in the appropriate area or receptacle and gave my hands a wipe with waterless cleaner. Then I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. Then I noticed I couldn’t get the key out of the ignition. Oh, no. What was I going to do? Call a tow truck? I called Mike instead.
“Hi, the car won’t start.”
“Who is this?”
“Your wife? Olga?”
“So the car won’t start. The lights come on but nothing from the engine.”
“Hold on. I’ll be right down.”
So I waited a few minutes and he arrived in his van. He got into the car and started it. It took a nanosecond. My hero! The shift was still in park where I had left it. I’ve been driving for 46 years, but somehow I just couldn’t figure this one out. I believe they call it a brain fart.