So, I was uncharacteristically nervous about driving down to Detroit on Saturday. It’s not like I haven’t droven down there about a gazillion times before what with visiting various people incarcerated at the good old Henry Ford Hoosegow for days on end.

It was *partly* because when I go to Mexicantown, if I miss my exit, I will end up on the Ambassador Bridge, which means I am going across the border into Cananananada. I have never missed that exit but people do and it is not as easy to return from an accidental border crossing these days as it was when my old [late] friend Ozone Bob drove up to Sault Ste. Siberia from someplace in the northern lower. He *forgot* that he had crossed the Mackinac Bridge (which connects Michigan to Michigan) and so when he got to the International Bridge (which connects Michigan to Ontario, Canada) he paid the toll and crossed it. When asked at Canadian customs, “What do you have to declare?” He replied, “Paraphernalia! I don’t want to go to Canada!” The paraphernalia was for his head shop and Canadian customs simply turned him around without making a national incident out of it. I’m thinking Canadian customs called American customs and said something like, “We’re sending this guy back. We didn’t want him in Canada.” I’ve heard that it isn’t all that easy in this day and age of “terrorists” and “gang members” and various other “Bad Hombres” that the Orange Baboon seems to think are thronging our borders. But I managed NOT to go to Canada. I got off an exit or so early at Vernor Highway and I know my way from there.

But really, what I was nervous about was the Dreaded Dashboard Lights. I had no reason to be nervous. The Ninja is getting up there in years but it (knock on wood) purrs along like nobody’s business. And so it did, all the way to Detroit, all over downtown Detroit, and all the way home to The Planet Ann Arbor. No Dashboard Lights, no matter how many times I nervously checked the dashboard.

Guess what? The GG was rattling around in the Great White North all weekend in the Frog Hopper and THAT vee-hickle lit Dashboard Lights and was running “rough”. He managed to limp home this morning and GUESS WHAT!?! The Subaru dealer cannot get the Frog Hopper in for a MONTH! I cannot believe that for the price we paid for that vee-hickle, they can’t provide better service than that.

It’s okay, he is taking it to somebody else that works on Subarus. There are plenty of people around here that do. But boy oh boy am I annoyed. If I have any real say about our next chosen vee-hickle, which is coming up sooner than we want it to, we will be buying a[nother] Honda. Never a problem getting into Honda for service. I mean, if there weren’t other shops around here that can work on Subarus, what were we supposed to do? Rent a car for a month? No.

I know that the Notre Dame Cathedral story is (so far) the story of the day but did anyone see the Killer Cassowary story? You’ve heard of “Florida Man”? This is “Florida Bird”. Maybe with a bit of “Florida Man” thrown in given that the man owned a cassowary? Sorry that he died but jeeze. And the cathedral story is horrific but not too surprised that it lit up like it did, given all of the ancient wood in that place.

This entry was posted on Monday, April 15th, 2019 at 5:38 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.