offcntr | Entries tagged with breakdowns

After a relaxing day of catching up with office work, bike ride to the bank to deposit some cash purchases and a couple of hours making paper in the back yard, I went inside to start supper. Pulled out some spinach, mushrooms, the last flour tortilla, eggs and half-and-half for an improvised use-up-the-leftovers mini-quiche. I was pulling a slice of onion out of the fridge freezer to dice and sweat, and for some reasons, it was thawed and floppy. So were the packages of lunchmeat. Chicken parts and fish filets were still frozen, but starting to thaw, as were the ice cube trays.

Yup, my freezer's dead. So's the fridge. Light still works, but nothing else. Fiddling with the thermostat had no effect.

Phuk.

We still have an upright freezer, so I transfered the frozen goods. We have a bunch of freezer packs, from when Denise used to get arthritis injections by mail, so I loaded up the veggies in our larger cooler with several cold packs. Our other two coolers are six-pack sized, totally inadequate, so I borrowed a ginormous camping cooler from neighbor Bob for the rest of the perishables, topped with all the remaining cold packs.

When I pulled the fridge out from the wall, I found water and rust underneath, and one of the sides is rusting through. I figure the compressor or motor is dead, which is well beyond my capacity to fix.

So tomorrow morning, I'm off to buy a new fridge. Praying they can do a same-day delivery. And haul away the old one.

ETA: Did a thorough cleaning of the fridge exterior last night, preparatory to having it hauled away in the morning, including wiping off all the dust and fuzzies from the radiator coils in back. Left it plugged in overnight, and this morning, the compressor was running and the insides were cold again, so I guess that was the problem? Took advantage of the empty state to do a complete inside clean as well, and put everything--thankfully still cool in the ice chests overnight--back in.

Fingers crossed.

Arrgh!

Just got a call from my mechanic. After putting it all back together, the van won't start. They've repaired two vacuum leaks, but it's still flooding. If you hold the pedal to the floor to clear the flooding, it'll start, but it's not something to rely on 500 miles from home.

My friend Shelley had a similar experience before the Salem Art Fair last month. In her case, it was during the athletics meet, and rental cars were not to be found anywhere in Eugene or Springfield. She ended up borrowing a car from a friend to do the show. I was a little more fortunate. The first place I called, a Car and Truck Rental associated with a local auto dealership, had a Ford Transit van available. It'll cost me a hundred bucks a day, but probably no extra mileage, as their 200 miles per day allowance is more than enough. But I really don't have a choice.

I spent the rest of Monday sorting pots, restocking the Market boxes, and adding a few just for Anacortes: extra plates, bowls, tall mugs; boxes with pastas/bakers/pie plates and casserole/batter bowls, and one just full of extra crab and octopus pots. I also pulled out the display hardware I need to swap out. With a ten-by-ten booth, I can put in a larger bench and shelves, put out a few more things.

Meanwhile, I'm wondering if I should be looking at van rentals.

I mean, Ron thought he knew where the problem was--apparently, Astros are notorious for arcing where the cables cross over the distributor cap, it's a known design flaw. He also knew I needed to drive up to Washington on Wednesday, and promised to bump me up the queue a little. But what if he can't fix it?

Yeah, I'm always a little anxious right before shows.

This morning, I still hadn't heard anything. Today I'm doing all the little jobs: empty the dishwasher, clean up the kitchen, bake quiche crust for supper and cookies for the trip (and a few for the cat sitter). Fold the laundry, set out the table covers to go in the van. If the van gets done. Take Denise to physical therapy. Run down to the bank, the pharmacy, pick up some trip food. Sweep the floor, empty the litter boxes, worry about the van.

It's a circle.

I finally share my worries with Denise around 11 am. Why don't you call them? she sensibly asks. (Because I'm a middle kid, full of Catholic guilt, who never wants to be a bother to anyone.) But I do call.

I get the receptionist, who says she'll get one of the guys, and puts me on hold.

Wouldn't you know it? Hall of the Mountain King, though a rather better recording.

On about the second repeat, Ron comes on. It's running, he replaced the throttle body and plenum and several other things I don't understand. Take about an hour to get it back together. I offer to pick it up after Denise's PT this afternoon.

And finally, I can breathe again.

Monday morning, 7:55 am, I arrive at the Park Blocks where my poor van lies sleeping. I'm a little concerned that it may have been ticketed; the parking meters aren't in force Sunday, but come active 7 am Monday. Fortunately, either the meter crew don't come through until later, or my pathetic "Broken Down: Will tow Monday A.M." sign worked. My mechanic opens at 8 am; I left a message on their voice mail before I left the house, but call again from downtown.

I get an unfamiliar voice, neither Ron nor Eric, my regular guys. Explain the situation, he asks if I'm gonna have it towed in (duh!), and I ask if they have a regular service they deal with. After some off-mike consultation, he comes back with [towing company A], so I hang up and call their number.

After a recorded announcement that my call is being monitored, I pass through to a perky voice who hears my story, says she'll connect me with someone to help me out, puts me on hold. A badly distorted and very loud Hall of the Mountain King ensues, coming on speaker so I don't have to sit with the phone to my ear. After several minutes, the recorded voice is back, giving me the option of leaving a message or returning to queue. I press # and more bad Grieg commences.

Then my phone rings--Firefly theme and Mountain king in battle--and I figure out how to put hold on hold and pick up. It's Ron, my regular from the garage, who's just heard my voicemail. When I tell him my situation, he says [towing company A] is a bunch of crooks, towed his niece's car and charged exorbitant sums to free it, and he always goes with [towing company B]. He's prepared to expound at length at A's lack of ethics, and I finally interrupt him to ask if we could hang up so I can disconnect the other line and call his recommendation.

[Towing company B] answers direct, says they can definitely help, but they're booked solid until noon. Can I wait? I say I really can't, ring off, and consult the internet.

There are a lot of towing services in Eugene. I finally pick one that feels vaguely familiar--they may have towed me in the past?--and give [towing company C] a call. Once again, the guy picks up immediately, hears my story, and says I'm in luck. He has a driver delivering a car to a shop just outside downtown, he needs to get it off the truck, and can be there in 15 minutes.

The parking spaces around me are beginning to fill. Apparently, the employees at the bank use the shady side of the street for their cars. I'm feeling a bit conspicuous in my car at an expired meter, so I drop in all of my pocket change and buy 25 minutes. And wait.

And whaddya know? Fifteen minutes later, a big rig pulls onto Park Street. Driver asks if I have towing coverage--thank you, State Farm!--gets my information, then moves off the curb and into the street. Put the van in neutral and steer while he pushes me out of the spot. Runs down the ramp, hooks up the chain, rolls my van up onto the truck bed, pausing to adjust the steering to keep it centered. In no time, they're off to the shop. I pull out to follow, just as my parking meter ticks over to zero.

It was kind of Serengeti out there yesterday. Temperatures in the high 90s, with a kind of orange cast to the afternoon light, haze or smoke in the air. A whole bunch of vendors decided not to come out, large patches of both blocks left empty, particularly in the center, where the shade doesn't reach.

My booth gets reliably shaded by a big magnolia tree (we've been here long enough to remember when it was a small magnolia tree), so I didn't do too badly most of the day. Even had some cool breezes in the morning, as hot air rising from the road drafted cool shady air into the booth.

For all that, it was really busy. People came out early, 9:30 am we were already crowded. I had some special orders from last week's firing to pick up, and most of them showed up. Also had someone looking for a bear platter finally connect--we'd been playing tag for three weeks--and decide he not only wanted the platter, but also ordered a polar bear pasta bowl. A young woman getting married in two weeks stopped in for a gratitude present for her mother, who's been so much help in planning the wedding. She settled on a mother/daughter pie plate: a rather sweet painting of a doe and fawn.

I only brought a few things from the new firing, but already sold two: a lion tall mug to my booth neighbor for her son's birthday, and the cheetah dessert plate. And I have to bring in the other lion tall mug in two weeks for someone's uncle Leo, who is, zodiacly speaking, a Leo, and kinda leans into it.

Saw a couple of geeky tee-shirts. One had a picture of a cat in a square frame, with the legend, Wanted: Dead or Alive--Schrodinger's Cat. The other had a three-circle Venn diagram marked Life - The Universe - Everything. The intersection, of course, read 42. Said he got it for his 42nd birthday.

Had a little girl in a dinosaur jumper, so I asked if she'd like to pet the dinosaur banks. She petted the T. Rex, then the Stegosaur (agreeing that it's much spikier) and the Brontosaur, and asked her mom if she could get one. I don't think we can get it home to Seattle safely, said Mom. Told her I'd be in Anacortes the following weekend, and even gave daughter a spare postcard with the show dates and information, so I might just see them up there.

I generally get half a dozen postcards returned every mailing, as my list is getting old, so I just black out the address and give them to kids for the cute bear picture. Every now and then, though, they're good for their original purpose. Had another Washingtonian stop in the booth, so gave out two for the day.

Around 2 pm, things ground to a halt, but we got a little cloud cover around 3:30 that lasted through load out, though it was still stiflingly hot. Got the van loaded up even a little early, ready to go home to a cold shower.

And the damn thing wouldn't start.

It had been running a little rough in the morning, coughed a little when I brought it down from the parking structure, but now it didn't even do that. Battery was find, it cranked like a champ, but though it smelled like gas, it apparently wasn't getting into the cylinders to go boom. I hailed Dave, from the site crew, to ask if he knew anything about motors; his knowledge level was about the same as mine, but he was able to recruit some of his workers to help me push it across the street to a legal parking space. Gave it 15 minutes in case it was flooded (is that still a thing?), but when it still didn't start, I called Denise to come pick me up.

Came back after supper with the car, and managed to fit all the pottery boxes inside, handtruck bungied to the roof rack, so at least I didn't have to fret about someone breaking in overnight and stealing my pots. It coughed briefly again this morning, then refused to catch, so tomorrow bright and early I'll have to get it towed to my mechanic, where hopefully, they'll be able to fix it before I have to drive up to Washington state on Wednesday. I did not need this.

But at least it happened here at home, and not somewhere out on the road.