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Short version of the long weekend: my girlfriend met my parents and likes them. I met her brother and I want to hang out with him more. ( More about the snow... )
Here is today's tale of People Are Putzim. I spent nearly half an hour cleaning the snow off my car. Even though I had pulled up my wipers from the windshield (something I only learned about when I moved here), my wipers were still deeply encrusted with ice that was hard to remove. The snow was fluffy, so it slid off easily but left lots of remnants. The windows were clean and the major snow removed when I pulled up to the closest garage to get inspected.
"Do you have any snow on your car?" the guy at the desk asked. I wasn't sure he was serious.
"Yes, I have snow on my car. Today, absolutely."
"There must not be any snow on the car, then pull around," he replied. I went back to my car with a lungful of invectives and started another twenty minutes of cleaning.
My feet were getting very cold. I detailed as much as I could. I only had my gloves and a brush/scraper, so work was difficult. I had several more lungsful of invectives for the open air as I worked.
Then it dawned on me: this putz doesn't want to inspect my car. I had been thinking this lightly but it didn't sink in until I had taken as much ice out of the wiper wells and off the grill as possible. He just hoped I'd go away. By this point the car was as clean as I could get it but still had snow on it.
Because it's a few hours after a snow storm and the lot around the garage is a mess! Because there isn't a car wash nearby! Because it's frickin' winter!
I don't know how few pennies the garage gets from the $29 state inspection, but I knew he wasn't getting them. I drove into Newton Center (another mile or so) and got inspected without a problem. There wasn't even a "is it clean?" question. ( warming my body, cooling some hardware... )
-hope you had a fine Kugichagulia, Ps/d
Here is today's tale of People Are Putzim. I spent nearly half an hour cleaning the snow off my car. Even though I had pulled up my wipers from the windshield (something I only learned about when I moved here), my wipers were still deeply encrusted with ice that was hard to remove. The snow was fluffy, so it slid off easily but left lots of remnants. The windows were clean and the major snow removed when I pulled up to the closest garage to get inspected.
"Do you have any snow on your car?" the guy at the desk asked. I wasn't sure he was serious.
"Yes, I have snow on my car. Today, absolutely."
"There must not be any snow on the car, then pull around," he replied. I went back to my car with a lungful of invectives and started another twenty minutes of cleaning.
My feet were getting very cold. I detailed as much as I could. I only had my gloves and a brush/scraper, so work was difficult. I had several more lungsful of invectives for the open air as I worked.
Then it dawned on me: this putz doesn't want to inspect my car. I had been thinking this lightly but it didn't sink in until I had taken as much ice out of the wiper wells and off the grill as possible. He just hoped I'd go away. By this point the car was as clean as I could get it but still had snow on it.
Because it's a few hours after a snow storm and the lot around the garage is a mess! Because there isn't a car wash nearby! Because it's frickin' winter!
I don't know how few pennies the garage gets from the $29 state inspection, but I knew he wasn't getting them. I drove into Newton Center (another mile or so) and got inspected without a problem. There wasn't even a "is it clean?" question. ( warming my body, cooling some hardware... )
-hope you had a fine Kugichagulia, Ps/d
