When I first took The Boy to his new school, I was told to watch out when crossing the Willey bridge (part of Chippenham Pkwy.) "It’s a 45 road but it feels like a highway and the cops know that," was how one person put it.
I was extra careful for the first few weeks going either way on the bridge, but I realized that I was "that guy" going 45 or 50 when everyone else was hitting 55 or more. So I began keeping up with traffic instead. Hitting 65 on that stretch seemed about average many mornings.
Today, though, I noticed immediately when getting toward the bridge that the traffic was behaving oddly. There was a lot more bunching of cars, especially in the left lane. When that kind of pattern emerges it’s almost always because of a cop. (The guy in front doing 65 sees the cop and hits the brakes. Idiot tailgators do the same, and suddenly everyone’s in a wolf pack.)
Sure enough, motorcycle cop on the other side with someone pulled over. Oh! Also an unmarked car with him. (Hmm… and I noticed an unmarked Camaroish cop car in one of the school zones I drive through, too.)
Normally when you see a cop has someone pulled over it’s safe to maintain your normal speed — he’s not going to suddenly drop what he’s doing to chase you unless you’re hitting triple digits. But the cars weren’t speeding up when they passed the cop.
"Speed traps," I thought immediately. There are probably more cops ahead. Bingo; cop in the median. And a quarter mile beyond him, another. Wow.
On the way back over the bridge (going no more than about 48) there were no cops on the side, but I saw three Henrico County cars zip past going the other way. No sirens or anything, just patrolling or whatever. But I had never seen so many of them buzzing around.
Finally, as I neared my house I saw another Henrico County cop on the side of the road, radar at the ready. At this point I was still in speed trap mode, of course. Can’t be too careful when the cops are hunting to meet their quotas!
So yesterday the dreaded Check Engine light came on as I drove home from the Children’s Museum. The CEL, of course, can mean anything from "You didn’t put the gas cap on tightly enough" to "A tiny, $600 sensor crammed in an inaccessible spot has failed."
This is bad for a couple of reasons. Obviously I’m in no mood to shell out $600 to fix anything, and further, I don’t have a good mechanic around here yet. Luckily, though, I have this neat device called a CarChip that I received from the manufacturer a few years ago.
It was marketed as a way to keep track of a car’s usage. (Parents of new drivers, take note.) It plugs into your car’s ODBII connector (an easy to find thing under the steering wheel) and records things like speed, acceleration, engine speed, etc. You can then plug it into your PC and get fancy graphs and such. I often fantasize about getting a speeding ticket and using the CarChip as evidence I was going the limit.
Anyway.
One of the other things the CarChip can do is record any diagnostic codes the engine throws out — i.e., that "Check Engine" can become something more meaningful. So I did this. The problem code was P0401. Then I hit the tubes of the Internets and Googled "Toyota CEL P0401."
Presto — tons of links and help. The problem is most likely one of four things:
A) An inexpensive and easy-to-reach part needs to be replaced;
B) A different easy-to-reach part need to be cleaned;
C) A $150 easy-to-reach part needs to be replaced; or
D) A $400 hard-to-reach part needs to be replaced by a mechanic at $65 per hour
The good news is that my other symptoms — the engine occasionally revs while on the highway — make it most likely that it’s A. But we’ll see. I reset the Check Engine light (another thing the CarChip can do) and took The Boy to school this morning. It didn’t come back on. If it does, I’ll have an idea what to do.
Of course, now I have to find an auto parts store around here….
The site was working fine last night. This morning it was gone. Then it was back. Then gone. Now (hopefully) back. WTF?
Craigslist has always been a great resource — The Wife found her job through it, and for a freelance writer it’s a godsend. There’s also the humor value; "For Sale: Women’s Size 22 running outfit, hardly used" and whatnot.
And little can beat the "casual encounters" for sheer head-slapping shock value. (As I write this, the top post in the "W4M" section is titled, "ruttish, raunchy guys welcome to enter my heaven." [shiver] Even better are ones with photos.
One woman, who apparently lives at 642 Clearlake Road (Google map), writes, "the first guy smart enough to find me and call me from my driveway can do whatever he wants with me." Of course, the fact that she doesn’t do a very good job hiding her address and phone number in the post makes her rather easy
to find.
Another describes herself as "I am a size 8, medium build, nice rack, all my teeth…" It says something about your neighborhood — or your dating habits — if you feel the need to include "all my teeth" in your description.
The men aren’t much better. One writes
I really do not have anything planned this New Years, sort of got bored with the going out ordeal so will most likely watch football and other TV unless you or you and a friend have nothing better to do and would like to play some board games where we can institute some nudity and possibly sexual favors.
And then adds
Been awhile since I played any board games and unfortunately I really do not have any….
Another gentleman writes, "IVE NEVER BEEN WITH TWO GIRLS AT ONCE.. IM LOOKING FOR TWO SEXY MAMIS THAT WANT TO USE ME FOR THERE PERSONAL NEEDS… "
I wonder if he got any mail, "I need you to do some laundry, vacuum the hallway, wash the dishes — and no, these aren’t metaphors."
Then there’s the good ol’ rants and raves. The current popular discussion, "Favorite Synonym For The Word Anus." [sigh]
When our friend Michelle (one of three people we know outside of work) came over to visit, we decided to order pizza. Michelle, who has actually lived here, picked a place and it was great.
A coupla weeks ago, we wanted pizza again but couldn’t remember the name of the place. I took a stab that it was Chanello’s Pizza. We ordered an extra large pie — always good to have leftovers.
Well, if the thing they brought was an "extra large," someone’s been lying to his girlfriend. (Waiting a moment for that comment to sink in.)
This thing was like 14 inches. We confirmed with the delivery guy — this was Chanello’s idea of "extra large."
This thing was the size of a medium pie in New York … at best. (It was also pretty grim pizza.) This got me worried that 14 inches was considered large for pizza around here. So let me be clear: A large pizza is at least 18 inches in diameter. Got it? It’s really not that hard.
So a note to anyone dating or married to a guy working for Chanello’s: What he calls "large," the rest of us call "medium."
Next time we ordered from Cozzoli’s. We asked for a large pie — not extra large, just large. Lo and behold, what arrived was a proper 18-inch pie. And it was good. There’s hope.
It’s New Year’s and all — and I haven’t kept up. But that’s about to change as The Boy goes back to school. I’m also gonna add a photoblog. I’m sure the four people who read this will be impressed. :)
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