Back that Thang Up
Okay, so Sunday I drove across town to see The Godfather on the big screen with my one friend here, who is moving back to Boston for a job in May, and an SUV pulls up alongside me and honks. I roll down my window and the guys says, "Your taillights are out." I say, "All of them?" "Yes." "Okay. Thanks!" The light changes and I go to the mall, where I park, check my lights, which seem to be working in the late afternoon glare, go to the Gap and buy some jeans and a sweater. I then get back in my car, drive to the theater, walk around that neighborhood for a while (after parallel parking with some unnecessary, but welcome, help from a very cute stranger who I didn't know how to flirt back with 'cause I was worried about my possibly broken taillights), got a chai, window shopped, chatted with the owner of the kitchen supply shop, and eventually met Amy at the Belcourt. We saw the flick, which was great. There was a small intermission when a woman has a seizure about 3/4 the way into the movie (Michael was still in Italy and was about to get into the car). The lights went on, the paramedics came and took the woman and her date away. The date walked alongside the paramedics. Then they turned the movie back on and I loved it all. Totally floored.
Anyway, when the movie was over, I asked Amy to check my brakelights, and she confirmed that they in fact did not work at all. So, I put on my hazards every time I braked, the entire 5 miles to my house. When I got there, I called GLib and PChippy and PChippy told me that it might be a fuse. ...and it was! Number 8 to be exact. Unfortunately, I also has a legitimate headlight out, and one of my taillights has a bad connection so that every time I go over a bump in the road it goes out. Ah, well. Went to Valvoline where they fixed me up the best they could.
Long live Ovlov!