Tag car

Super blue moon mercury retrograde car repairs

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I bought my 2015 VW Jetta turbo in November of 2019. She had about 25,000 miles on her and I bought her for about $15,000 from my local Kia dealership.

She has been good to me– and even with my occasional road trips I only drive about 8,000 miles a year. And then my daughter’s car died, so for the last year she’s been more or less using my car full-time.

She’s put almost 20,000 miles on it. I used to take her in for service, an oil change and inspection every August and not think about her again until the next year. Not so now. Two oil changes this year. The kid blew one of my new tires hitting a curb.

Yesterday, I arrived at the garage at 8:15 a.m. for my 8:30 appointment. I had a large Panera iced coffee and a clif bar (brownie flavored) and brought one poetry book and my laptop intending to pound out a rough draft of my profiles of Milou Mackenzie and Miriam Sabih.

Which I did.

At 10:30 a.m., I received the video regarding the results from my inspection (all good) and the service coordinator came over to discuss which preventative maintenance would be best before Atlanta.

I knew going in my car needed a daytime running lamp and two new tires. We also opted for the complete tune-up since according to all my service records it had never had one and we now have more than 75,000 miles and I’m heading to Atlanta in two weeks.

When we get our next oil change, we’ll do the coolant and transmission fluid flushes.

At noon, the guy who supervises the actual technicians stopped by. They had replaced three of my four spark plugs. The last one was stuck. He said I could take the car home and return after my trip to finish the job. Great, I thought, I’m getting really hungry and would like to go home and have a real meal.

At 12:30, the service coordinator returned. He gave me a bottle of cold water. Which was great because all I had to drink so far was coffee. He wanted to get the car fixed before Atlanta, and preferably he didn’t want me driving it. So, after some looking at scheduling, they opted to keep the car with the promise to get it to me today or get me a loaner for Wednesday.

And they said they could have the shuttle take me home. The shuttle returned at 1 p.m. and disappeared before offering me a ride. Eva got down with her lunch clients and offered to come get me a little after 1:30 p.m. She arrives– and I kid you not– an old man with a walker lumbers up the ramp and takes up the door. After almost six hours in the room, I could not get out the door.

When we got home, the frazzled energies continued: my eggs were frozen, I burnt my toast, and the cat we are fostering tried to steal the bacon out of my sandwich (he did, but I wrestled it away from him) and then I sat down to watch TV and my Netflix account wouldn’t load, but Eva’s did. I watched hers.

And everyone kept talking about a blue supermoon and I was so confused because a blue moon is the second full moon in the month and it’s the middle of the month. Then Eva explained, “no, Mom, it’s literally blue.”

“Then they should say the blue-COLORED moon,” the editor in me replied.

The dealership called a little after three. There were two Ackermans in service that day. The person who handed me my paperwork gave me the wrong set. I almost signed for the wrong car!

I got my car back. Adjusted the seat because I have little legs and cringed at the fact that somebody put the country station on in my car. I drove over to Wawa for happy hour to treat myself to a cafe con leche because it’s been a long day. (Though I did do a draft of my Sex Down South slide show!) The young man doing the barista work burned my milk. Bought Eva some Mountain Dew because CVS has no Adderall.

And came home.

Welcome February or “Wow, it’s been a month!”

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…

But not here.

I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.

(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)

My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.

If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.

Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.

Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.

Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.

We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.

I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.

I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.

In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.

While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.

And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.

Chicken McNuggets and Monday morning car accidents

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Yesterday was my first day working with a custom splint on my mallet finger instead of a cast. And it went really well— except for the times I put my splint back on the outside of my hand instead of the inside. And I went to apply fresh tape and the nurse at work wanted to help.

All-in-all, I achieved a new record (for me) in Freestyle, shipping I believe 574 items or 115% of the 500 item goal for a 10-hour shift. And that includes 15 minutes I spent trying to find a work station that was operational. If you subtract that as official “non-production time” it might be damn close to 116%.

Today, a Monday, with the traditional Monday through Friday people at work, I was assigned to a different table in QC, my regular department. It was a table just a smidgeon higher than the table I worked at last week and the line was on the left instead of the right.

This is the first time since my return-to-work in late May that I have worked on the left. In one way, it’s nice because I have been having issues with the stability of my walk and control in my right leg, so working on the left means I can use my left side more.

But working on the left side means I’m shoving all those boxes with my injured hand and after two hours the cuticle area under my nail on my injured finger is tender and really red. Despite this, at one point this morning, I reached 118%.

But then I got a call from The Teenager. She rear-ended someone in her father’s 2022 Kia SUV. The car he bought after he rear-ended someone in late December and totaled his beloved 2016 Nissan Juke.

She’s fine. It was raining and she misjudged how long it would take her to stop in the wet. The car looked driveable, but when she tried it started leaking fluid and overheating. So, she called AAA to tow it.

I left work early. At four hours into my shift, I think I had QCed 69 fixes, and goal for that specific time of day is 65. That’s with going out to my car to get info for my daughter, calling her father, and similar nonsense.

I was listening to an episode of business wars, the podcast, or was it The History Channel’s The Food that Built America and the history of Burger King vs. McDonald’s and the invention of the Chicken McNugget.

Now I distinctly remember the debut of the Chicken McNugget, which, according to the podcast, became available at all McDonalds in 1983.

I was eight. Probably riding around with my mom in her 1979 Camaro (black). We lived in a very rural area in Pennsylvania’s Slate Belt. The closest actual town was Portland, Pa., which I feature in my first novel, Manipulations (and if you are interested you can buy it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble.com, or at Bookshop.org here — the Bookshop price includes shipping and designates a portion of the profit to an independent bookseller of your choice).

Anyway, we had a very small supermarket in Portland so my mom would do most of her family shopping in Stroudsburg, Pa., the gateway to the Pocono Mountains. If she were shopping at Kmart for clothes or household items or at Shoprite for our groceries, we would often stop at Burger King where the delight would be a cheeseburger and some onion rings.

But if we had to go to the Stroud Mall, McDonald’s was across the street. So we want to McDonald’s. I didn’t like McDonald’s — they put onions on their burgers and I don’t like onions. So, eight-year-old me was very excited for these Chicken McNuggets. If my mom was in a good mood, I could order a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal. Which— in the eighties— came with six nuggets in a styrofoam container. And of course, I only liked the barbecue sauce.

So the podcast got me thinking about McDonald’s in general especially since I worked at a McDonald’s (a very busy McDonald’s) from the summer I graduated high school until the August after I graduated college.

We made $5.25/hour in the late 1990s. A full-time employee made $200/week. And we got one meal per shift. I ate a lot of McChicken sandwiches.

I’m thinking about McDonald’s and listening to Conan O’Brian and Andrew Gurza (not together although that would be amazing), when I get the phone call with the teenager in tears.

“Mom, I rear-ended someone in Dad’s new car.”

This was her first car accident. It’s a rainy day here and she misjudged how far she needed to stop. And she didn’t want to slam on her brakes harder and lose control of the car.

At first, she and the police officer who responded thought the car was driveable. It started leaking what looked like antifreeze and overheated. So the officer called AAA.

I told my Stitch Fix supervisors the situation and asked to leave.

The teenager told me she was on a side street “out by Target” “by the library” and I misinterpreted her and went to the wrong town.

The teenager texted me a photo of the nearest intersection and I realized my mistake and turned around.

A very kind officer waited with her and I drove her to the dog walking client she had been driving to when the accident happened.

And then I grabbed us lunch at McDonald’s because their triple cheeseburger is my favorite sandwich on the menu and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

Bizzy Hizzy update: the donut farewell and the shift differential

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Every morning this week I have had some kind of appointment so I’m averaging six hours per sleep a night during a heat wave while anemic.

To say I am fatigued is an understatement.

Took my 2015 Volkswagen Jetta in for its 40,000 mile service even though it’s only got 38,500 miles on it. As this things usually go there was good news and bad news.

Video from the dealer

I don’t know how long this will be active but I think it is super cool.

My friend and publishing partner Gayle picked me up when I dropped the car off and we took her sister to the doctor. She wanted to borrow my hedge trimmer and me, not remembering she was bringing me home, was wandering around the car dealership with a small electric saw.

Gayle packed the three of us a dragon fruit snack and let me read her completed Silk & Sonder planner for June.

When I got home, my new AirPods we’re waiting on the doorstep.

The teenager took the ones the dog ate.

And I was too stupefied to operate my daughter’s new Keurig mini to make coffee.

And then we got big news for Midnight Society at the Bizzy Hizzy: Stitch Fix is rolling out a $1 per hour shift differential. Their goal is to get second shift to 200-250 people to balance first shift.

Here’s hoping it won’t change the culture and camaraderie.

My friend Barb worked her last shift tonight and one of our leads brought munchkins from Dunkin for Barb to eat or to share. Barb, being the ultimate altruistic soul and team player, gathered everyone on the shift and offered them a donut.

Then at our roster meetings, our supervisors announced VTO— yes VTO— voluntary time off. Anyone who wants a half day tomorrow can have it. Early weekend. We’ve hit all our goals and the work is done.

So now I’m sitting with my foster cats Khloe and Louise as Barb enjoys a glass of celebratory wine at her house.

I made myself at cocktail and texted her a photo.

Daffy Monday walk at Louise Moore Park

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My blind friend, Nancy, always says that I’m the only person she knows that has a life as daffy as hers.

This morning I got up, helped the teenager med the kittens and dealt with some other cat rescue business, drove the teen to band camp for photos, and headed to Young’s Volkswagen Mazda to get my car inspected.

I originally had an appointment for two weeks ago and I had to cancel that when I was admitted into the hospital.

I need a state inspection and emission test, and the dealership will do the state inspection for free. My 2015 Jetta has synthetic oil, so it only needs an oil change every 10,000 miles or once a year. Well, thanks to corona I’ve only driven 5,000 miles this year. So… does it need an oil change?

My dad told me it needs the tires rotated. And my mileage is at 30,800 so it’s due for a 30,000 mile service, which includes an oil change and tire rotation.

And my key fob doesn’t work. At all.

Then I forgot to put my breakfast in my purse. So I had a strong cup of French roast coffee, no food and my mind is buzzing.

I get to the dealership at 8:05 for an 8:30 appointment. I start organizing the insurance and registration paperwork and I realize my insurance card expired in April.

I download a new one, screen shot it and email it to the service clerk from my phone.

He notices I am high strung and suggests I calm down.

At a previous time, I had ascertained that the oil change, inspection and tire rotation would be cheaper than the 30,000 mile service.

Gayle is on her way to pick me up so we can go for a walk in Louise Moore Park (one of my favorite spots In Northampton County. They have a kite festival. And the teenager learned to ride a bike there.)

Gayle somehow tours all of the local car dealerships before finding the right one, and she drives right by me and I didn’t even see her. And I was sitting on some giant boulders.

We had a good laugh as we both appreciate a silly mishap. We walked at least 5,500 steps on a beautiful, cool summer morning.

Louise Moore Park

We called from the park and the car was ready. Somehow we turned onto the highway instead of the car dealership and compensated for our oopsy by stopping at Dunkin Donuts for free coffee Monday and a green iced tea for Gayle.

Our discombobulation continued and we made a few more wrong turns.

I told Gayle I would be ecstatic if my car cost me $150 or less. I am unemployed right now and have no income.

When I arrived, the total was $150.53. I was thrilled. And they fixed my key fob— it had the wrong battery in it. I’m sure the guys at the dealership had a good laugh, and again, I’m okay with that.

I feel victorious as they fixed my key fob!

Zeus

In cat news, I pet little Apollo today, got Hades to take her antibiotics and played with Zeus and Artemis.

Lunch

Exhausted, I make a frozen pizza that I augment with nutritional yeast and extra sharp cheddar (which despite not being opened has somehow turned moldy— must be a tiny hole in the bag.)

The teenager would tell me not to eat it as I have a sensitivity to penicillin but after all of the penicillin-category antibiotics that have filled my body recently I don’t think moldy cheese will kill me.

Gayle’s blog: Gayle’s Manic Monday walk