Oil Change Adventure

So my boring but comfortable leased Lexus was due for it's final oil change. Final for me, anyway -- I turn the car in 8000 miles from now. I brought it to our local Firestone last month, and came back 3 hours later -- hadn't been done. The nice Indian manager apologized -- they had a "complicated order," as Bon Qui Qui used to say, and I told him I would come back another time. That time was this am.

I left the car at 7, and he promised it would be done by 9. I doubted him, but walked the few blocks to Roasters, one of my Pinecrest breakfast haunts, but one I had stopped attending, on account of the fact that you need to take out a home mortgage to pay for an omelette. It's as if they took NYC prices as a challenge, and tried to meet or exceed them, and the wealthy denizens of the surrounding 'hood took it as a sign of honor to pay them. Not me. But then, they started an early bird special -- 7-9:30 -- two eggs, oatmeal, bagel, and "free" coffee, for $7.99. That is reasonable, and I ordered my food, and the world weary waitress said she calls the special "Free Bird" since she loves Skynnerd, and I told her to watch the documentary "If I Leave Here Tomorrow," and it turned out she was from Jacksonville, and I told her I had a waitress in the Upper West Side of NYC from JVille last weekend, and she said, hilariously, that JVille is a leading exporter of trashy white women who become waitresses everywhere, and I told her she was clearly NOT trashy, and we laughed, and I gave her a 50 % tip.

And then I decided to take the Pinecrest FreeBee home, to continue to wait for my car. The FreeBee is a boondoggle that comes from "extra" tax money collected by Miami Dade County -- trying to encourage people to not drive their cars in car dependent Miami, and it is a free Uber pool-type service. I requested my ride, and 5 minutes later the 7 passenger electric golf cart pulled up. I was greeted with a hearty hello by Alvaro -- a young man with a Lenny Kravitz meets Queer Eye appearance.

We chatted as his music played -- a female singer I liked but couldn't identify. He told me it was Liz Phair. We started towards Villa Wifey, at most 10 minutes away, but then Alvaro said he had a pickup at the local Dairy Queen. The DQ is across US 1 from the MetroRail stop, and 4 nice ladies got in, happily chatting in Spanish.

Alvaro told me he was in FIU part time, seeking a career in the fashion industry. He said he wanted to do an internship, but had VERY specific requirements about what he would do as an intern -- "I mean, like, I'm not there to fetch coffee for people." I decided to have an "OK, Boomer" moment, and I told him about my partner Paul, whose first day on the job as a law clerk ended with his being handed a plunger, and being told to go unclog the toilet after a more senior lawyer had a copious bowel movement. Paul did it, as I would have, as low men on the Totem Pole.

I told Alvaro that the toilet plunging job made my partner a multi millionaire, with invaluable lessons learned, and amazing career experiences, and tons of money. So maybe be more flexible in your intern demands...

Alvaro didn't seem too interested. He started speaking to the ladies in Spanish. And then, to passively aggressively get back at me for being a pedantic old so and so -- proceeded to drop off each of the ladies ALL over Pinecrest.

When he finally pulled in front of my house, I saw the trip had taken 36 minutes.

Still, as I exited, I smiled. I was going into a big ass house I LIVED in. My fellow passengers were being dropped off to clean -- and then have to take the ride share back to MetroRail and Lord knows where to after that.

It's now 2.5 hours since I dropped off the car. That's ok -- my morning's lesson is how privileged I am to HAVE a car.  I'm about to go wake late sleeping Wifey, and tell her she has to pull a bit of WifeBer duty -- drive me back to 98th Street.

I think when Wifey's SUV is due for service, I'll go over to Jiffy Lube...