It all comes full circle...

... and revolves around Starbucks, it seems. I planned to blog something a bit more serious this evening; stuff I've been devoting my reams of paper to. About pretending, about being real. Embracing silence. Being me. Trying to figure out what the hell I'm built to do here on this earth. Disappointment, rejection, growth. (Oooh, now aren't those some vague terms?) But that'll have to wait. STORY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was on my way to Jessica's and stopped to get gas at the Shell station. Got back in the car and it wouldn't start. Quel surprise, my car's a piece of ****. The kind gas station attendant helped me push it into a parking stall, where I called Megs to drive me to my house. See, my mom told me this evening to put my new BCAA card in my wallet, but did I listen? Of course not. Of COURSE not. So Megs and I tried to jump start it. Or rather, we asked the gas station attendant to help us. Cuz we're dumb. I said I was thinking of saying it was because we were women, but I realized that was a nasty thing to say about women... truly it's just my own dumbness.

Anyway. Car wouldn't start so back we went to my place and I called BCAA. We watched Friends then drove back to the Shell to wait for my Knight in Red and White Armour. I kept saying to her that it would probably be one of my regulars from Starbucks, because we share a parking lot with BCAA and the drivers often spend their on-call evenings sitting at our bar drinking espresso.

Sure enough, I saw the flashing lights, heard the honking, and Tiny (aka Robert) was there, pointing and laughing at me. Good ol' Tiny is one of our very regular regulars, and we have had many a conversation about the crappiness of my car. (Hey, at least I have a car! And it stays warm and has good tires and sometimes works!)

After some fussing, Tiny (who is a very large man, by the way) discovered that one of my battery leads had coroded in one spot and was no longer connected to the battery. He commented that I was a very lucky lady, and rummaged around in his tool kit, producing various metal sticks and cranks. A splash of my Dr. Pepper for acidity, some fiddling, some cutting and splicing, and some mechanical skill, and Tiny had my battery all spruced up! I love BCAA. And I love our regulars!

If I'd just gotten the dang thing towed to Canadian Tire, I'll bet it would have cost me a hundred bucks just for them to stand there and tell me what was wrong with it. Instead, this might cost me a personal grande, extra sweet hazelnut latte.

Sometimes the damn job just pays off.