Last week I took a co-worker to pick up her car at the shop and on the way we stopped at Wendy’s. After we paid for the food, I tried rolling my window back up. It stuck hard, and was pretty hesitant, until I really pushed it so it finally went up.
Then, given the busy week I had, I forgot about it.
Saturday morning Leah and I planned to go to the credit union and then on to Einstein’s Bagels for breakfast. At the credit union they are celebrating the merger of some smaller credit union with UFCU, or something to that effect. Employees are walking around the drive-thru, handing out bottled water and car air-fresheners.
As soon as I’m done with the drive-thru, I try rolling up my window, and this time, there’s no moving the handle. When I finally do force it, I hear a click of breakage. The window is stuck open, dark clouds are looming, and I’m hungry.I tell Leah to run into Einstein’s to pick us up something while I sit in the car, guarding my CDs and calling Dad.
As I ask my dad whether I should take the car into the dealership or our favorite neighborhood mechanic (who’s not really in my neighborhood anymore), it starts sprinkling. He suggests I call the mechanic and ask him if he might be able to do it.
I call the mechanic, saying, “Hi, Elie! This is Elizabeth –” and he says, “I know who this is!” This strikes me as quite humorous, and I have to giggle afterwards. He tells me to bring the car in, thinking he’ll be able to fix it.
When Leah comes back out with our bagels and cream cheese, the rain is starting to come down harder. As I tell her about my two calls, this old man walks out of Einsteins and by my car, telling us hello . . . because my window is open.
I drive the car to the mechanic, and am told they can’t get the part until Monday, but they could keep it in the garage over the weekend. I head to my parents’ house to figure out logistics. As I wait at the light by their house, drinking from my free water bottle, a woman yells across the street at me.
“Oh, I was going to give you one, but you’ve already got one!” She puts a bottle of water back in her trunk and starts heading across the street towards my car. “Well, I just wanted to tell you about the new Sunday School classes we’re starting up–”
“Sorry!” I yell at her as the light changes and I take my foot off the brake.
Are people just generally friendlier when you have your window down? It’s been so long since I drove my old Chevy Caprice Classic with no A/C . . .
I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive by any panhandlers.