For those of you who are regular readers, you know Velma is the name I gave my car. I hoped after a particularly bad winter of her discontent, it might help us to get on better.
She went to Uncle Brad's spa last Wednesday. As I had driven the longer distance Tuesday to meet my brother for lunch, I assume she was protesting the miles, by flashing me some yellow dash lights on the trip home.
I didn't know what the lights meant, and figured I'd check when I got home. I worried if I shut her down so I could read the manual, she might not have started again. Better to be stranded at home than in another town.
Anyway, some minor repairs, and an oil change later, we're back together. Brad is an in-law relative, and I find, with an older car, that it is so much better to have a mechanic you know and trust, and I get the family rate. He laughs when I tell him I call a trip to his garage a spa visit for Velma.
My inactivity has not been good for the old girl. Sitting for long periods, with only short trips out, has given her a rust problem. It doesn't help that we're so close to the lake for the added moisture.
Brad's advice, drive the hell out of her. I can see her days are numbered. But it's good advice, for us both. Maybe this will be my summer to get out and about, make some of those day trips I've wanted to do, make use of my new camera.
Now, if only spring would come for real. Snow? Really?