Today is the day Jag goes to the doctor for a check-up and to get his winter boots on. Translation: Patrick is taking the car (our 2004 Mazda 3) to the dealership for an inspection, oil change and winter tires. Further translation: we will be significantly poorer in a few short hours, but slightly less likely to die.
One thing you should know is we named our car “Jag.” I picked the name along with one of my good friends from school. The selection occurred on a 6am drive to the airport. Patrick was actually opposed to naming the car, but said friend had her car named and I have also been known to name turkeys and instruments, so it was appropriate. It was a sufficiently cool and masculine name for a car. Eventually the name caught on.
Now, poor Jag is getting up there. He may not be old, but he has about 300,000km. Thus, things go wrong with Jag. My parents (Jag’s original owners) are quite amazed Jag has gotten us this far. We are rooting for him to make it until I start residency. Where we live, cars do not need routine motor vehicle inspections, but our paranoia and some inconvenient break downs have led us to take Jag in for check-ups every second oil change or so. Thus it is time for a check-up. Recently, I have heard some shrill noises from the engine region and our driver’s side window does not always want to roll up once they go down. Suspicious. I suspect we will be down a few week’s pay for this trip.
In addition, it is now winter in Canada. Usually, I am keen and preemptively remind Patrick (the car is his responsibility) to get winter tires on prior to the snow flying. Unfortunately, I was adventuring around Canada (foolish schooling) and forgot until I was back home in late October. By the time he called, the next available appointment was December 4. EPIC FAIL! I could guarantee snow and ice will strike before then. But, then, Jag started squealing on occasion, so we had an excuse to go to the dealership and acquired an appointment a week earlier. But still… In late November. I could sense that mother nature would spite us.
We got off fairly scot free until last Friday night… WHABAM! Snow and ice. We live on a hill. We have 4 year old kind of questionable all-season tires. Good times.
Yesterday was when we were truly toasted by procrastination. The day before the snow tires, we had a very large record-breaking snow storm. It snowed 29.5cm before 1pm. Thankfully, schools were closed, so Patrick didn’t have to make his 20min trek out of the city to work at his afterschool program and there were no worries of him getting an elusive call to substitute teach. I, however, was expecting to scale snow banks to get to work. Fortunately and shockingly, the university administration decided to close the university (a rare move) and as a clerk, I am not obligated to go to work when the university is closed, unless I am on call… which I was not!
This morning, we begrudginly dug the car out and crawled to my 7am start at the hospital. The roads weren’t too terrible, however there was still a certain degree of slipping and sliding. Patrick then made his way to get the tires on (ah, the beauty of having a substitute teacher as a spouse with time to do those things) while I go to work and wait for patients to come in (of note, it is a particularly slow day in Gyne Oncology, thus the mid-day post).
Now, like nervous parents, we await the verdict about Jag’s health and look forward to him sporting his winter boots.