It was inevitable.
My excesses would catch up with me sooner or later and I'd have to see a Doctor.
I was a nervous wreck that morning, my performance just wasn't right.
"Aches and pains?" I was asked.
"Yep, got those." I answered.
"Unusual discharge?" was the next question.
"Yep, that too." I answered.
"Come right in." was the suggestion.
So I headed for the clinic down the road. It handled me and several others that day. I now place myself in the hands of the best in their business. I sit and wait, wondering what the others are here for.
"Wonder what he's got?" I thought looking at one.
"Things don't look right with her." I thought about another.
And then the specialist comes in, and calls my name.
I tremble as I raise my hand, and he comes over with a clipboard and sheets of paper.
"So what's the prognosis?" I asked fearfully.
"Oh, your cars' gonna be fine." He answers.
The color returns to my face.
He goes on to explain that the overheating problem and general creakiness in my Honda's performance was due to a leak in a coolant pipe that needs to be replaced. Hence the unusual discharge. He's surprised it held up as long as it did, considering the mileage.
I'm just waiting for the price of all this diagnosis and treatment.
Luckily I find out that having Chris as a friend gets me a nice discount.
"OK, set it up." I say.
That's when I get the zinger.
"It'll be about three hours to fix everything." He says.
The color leaves my face.
Well, it's gotta be done, might as well make good use of my time.
I walk up the road to a McDonald's and get breakfast and newspapers for the long wait.
As I'm sitting there, biscuit crumbs dropping around me, I see a pretty brunette on her phone, a sports magazine in hand. She's wearing pink sweatpants and an LA Dodgers shirt.
"Right, I'm at the dealer now...Um, I'm not sure, they said about an hour. So I'll meet you there...OK, bye." She says with a crisp, business-like tone before hanging up.
"These guys can always keep you as long as they want, huh?" I say.
"Looks like it. What are you here for?" she asks.
"Oh, my Accord's been overheating, needs some kind of coolant pipe." I answer.
"I had the same thing on my car." She says.
"You have an Accord too?" I ask.
"Oh no, BMW convertible." She says with a proud smile "I love it."
"Man, I would too." I reply.
"Oh, I'm Alyssa." She says.
"Jim." I try to wipe off whatever grease I have from the biscuit before shaking her hand. It feels ever so soft.
"Sorry, darn McDonald's sandwich." I say apologetically.
"Oh, no, don't. I love those, I could eat them every day, wouldn't be good for this though." And she pats her perfectly flat stomach.
