Our aging-but-low-mileage Subaru was a little sick last week. But it’s hard for a one-car, four-person family to have the car in for repair, so it wasn’t until Friday evening that I took the car in. And by “took the car in,” I mean coax a stalling and obviously distressed vehicle to the repair shop on the corner.
At G&M Auto (no web site, but Yelp reviews), I found Maz (at 9pm, talking with friends in the office), explained the situation, and left the car and keys with him. One new radiator and other parts later, we got the car back today.
But what to do in the meantime? We used Zipcar yesterday and this morning to get kids to their places of learning, and to cover other errands. It worked very smoothly. Reserve online, pick up and drop off the car at the local train station (Roslindale, less than a mile away), use Zipcard to unlock the car, and so on.
On Sunday, we used our feet and the MBTA. Both worked well. The feet (and stroller) took us the couple of miles to the nearest T stop (Forest Hills), then the T and buses worked well to get us to and from the South End Market and other fun places. But more about the market in another post…
Christine (via Universal Adam) reports an urge to vandalize a sign she saw on the Red Line. The sign related to cell phone use. I find the urge understandable, driven as it was by devotion to the semicolon.
She further reports, and commends, action by one of her fellow Red Line users. The action? Replacement of an inappropriate comma with an apt semicolon.
It looks like the work of the Grammar Vandal, who has been known to be protective of the Red Line and of its trains. Or perhaps there are others sacking the decadent citadel of Lax Language. Is there a tribe of Grammar Vandals?
I’m writing this on an American Airlines flight from Boston to San Diego. The flight hasn’t been too bad so far, even though I’m in cattle class and they apparently don’t feed the cattle on domestic flights these days. (I’m now posting from the hotel.)
The toughest part of the day was getting to Logan. I was hoping that this would mean a short car ride to Forest Hills T, then Orange line to State, then Blue Line to Logan. My wife was indeed kind enough to drive me to Forest Hills, but, due to roads closed for the Roslindale Parade, it took about half an hour and many detours to travel a couple of miles. So we weren’t among the people enthusiastic about the parade.
Orange to State actually meant Orange to Ruggles. Due to construction on the line, the train stopped there, and we got on a bus to Back Bay.
So, Back Bay to State for the Blue? No. An announcement told those of us going to Logan not to bother with the Blue, but to get off for the Red, then get on to the Silver. I did.
After all that, I got to the airport rather later than I’d hoped, and pleased that I’d been able to check in online. Uncle Sam seems to find me less suspicious these days; until recently, I always had to check in at the airport with staff.
So I did the usual shoeless shuffle through security. The highlight was the venerable lady whose water bottle was detected. When the security guy told her that he’d have to take the bottle, she told him that if it meant that much to him he was welcome to it.
We’ll be late in to San Diego, having detoured to skirt a storm system. What kind of wimps are we? I’ve been on a plane that was struck by lightning before, and I’m sure I could survive it again.