TheBanyanTree: The Curse Continues . . .

[Margaret R. Kramer]

The day before the 4th of July was a typical 2004 summer day in Minnesota,
cool, cloudy, and there was a threat of drizzle and rain.

We bundled up in sweatshirts and jeans, picked up the three year old and
five year old grandsons, and headed off to Fort Snelling, which is an old
fort, built in the 1820s on the junction of the Mississippi and Minnesota
Rivers.

Just when we got to the fort, the skies opened up and it began to rain.  The
always prepared grandma had brought along two umbrellas and they kept us
dry, well, they kept the boys dry because they insisted on carrying them, as
we toured the fort.  We stayed at the fort long enough to see the “soldiers”
shoot off the cannon.

Then we drove to the light rail transit Fort Snelling park and ride lot.
Light rail is only two weeks old in the Twin Cities.  It’s quite exciting,
because after years of political wrangling, protests about trees and land,
and who was financially responsible to move the electrical lines from under
one street to another to accommodate the tracks, we finally have light rail
trains running.

Right now, the line runs from Fort Snelling to downtown Minneapolis.  It
will expand to the airport and Mall of America, that shrine to materialism,
in December.

The older grandson was quite excited when he saw the trains.  “It’s just
like on the news,” he said.  Hey, it’s great that five year olds watch the
news, isn’t it?  “The train’s better than the city bus,” he said, and it is.

It was wonderful.  The cars are clean and new.  There was no bumping, no
jostling.  It moved on its tracks like a skater on ice.  It was fun to stop
at each station and hear the recorded voice call out the station’s name.
The view of the new Crosstown highway interchange, Minnehaha Park, homes,
Lake Street, and Franklin Avenue were fantastic.  I felt like a real city
person.  Minneapolis is now an official “big city” with its light rail.

We rode the train to downtown Minneapolis and then back to Fort Snelling.
It was so cool.  Ray and I loved it, and the boys enjoyed it, too.  I wish
they had these trains all over.  I bet people would finally get out of their
cars if they had something fun and exciting and convenient to ride on.

It was really pouring when we got off the train and headed back to my car.
We got in and began to approach the highway entrance.  But the car was
making funny noises and Ray asked me to pull over.

Sure enough, my passenger side rear tire was flat.  No problem.  Ray got out
the spare tire, the jack, and lug wrench and began to take off the tire.
Well, in this age of ultimate security, my Volkswagen tires have a special
lug nut which requires a special key to get the tires off.  Because, as
everyone knows, my tires could be the target of a tire thief.

We couldn’t find the key anywhere.  I had a flat tire last summer and Ray
changed it, so the key was obviously there then.  I took that tire to my
friendly Volkswagen dealership, they patched it, and put it back on.  They
returned the spare tire and the spare tire tool kit to my trunk.  I’m sure
the key got lost somewhere there.

As I worked the cell phone (that wonderful device which comes in so handy in
an emergency), and Ray puzzled over the tire, the boys ran amok in the rain.
The umbrellas were flapping every which way.  They jumped in every puddle,
because we were too busy to yell at them.  People stopped and asked to help,
but unless they had the special magical key, there was nothing they could
do.

I called a tow truck.  However, the dispatcher didn’t tell the driver that
he would have to tow all of us home, so the driver brought his girlfriend
along.  There wasn’t enough room in the tow truck cab for all of us to sit,
so I had to call a cab for the boys and me.  Thank goodness, the five year
old knew the cab number, 222-2222.  He’s such a clever boy.

We were soaked to the bone.  So much for the umbrellas.  As Ray supervised
the release of my car from the tow truck, I changed myself and the boys into
dry clothes and called for a pizza.

We didn’t think about the car on the 4th of July.  But on the 5th of July, I
began to search the internet for information about these special keys and
made some calls.  Of course, the friendly VW dealership was closed for the
holiday, but I got a good idea from an auto parts store on how to get that
tire off.

When we went out to look at the car, it was then that we saw the pin stuck
into the side of the tire.  It was long, about two inches, sharp, and had a
little plastic head on it.  From its position, it was obvious that someone
stuck it in deliberately.  Yes, the car curse was evident now.

Ray got a socket wrench and a small lever and began to move the spikes in
the lug nut outward so they would catch on the socket wrench.  After
numerous tries and the final push from our neighbor, Ray got the tire off
without having to cut through the rim.

He put the spare on and we drove to a tire place.  He couldn’t fix the tire,
so he put a new tire on the rim.  When we got home, Ray put the new tire on
my car, along with a regular lug nut to replace the special one.

I have to bring my car to Volkswagen so they can see what code my special
key is, because they don’t keep that on record, and get a new one.  Then we’
ll take off the rest of the security lug nuts on the tires and replace them
with regular ones.  Tire thieves, pay attention, my tires will now be
unprotected!  They’ll all yours!

These are the cursed things that have happened to my little VW:  Rear ended,
cost $4,000 to replace the back end, without car for six weeks.  Hit an ice
chunk, fried engine because oil leaked out, cost over $6,500, waited two
months for new engine from Germany.  Mice built nest on gas tank, chewed
through fuel lines, cost over $2,000, without car for three days.  Now the
tire, which was a minor inconvenience compared to the others.  Maybe the
curse is finally lifting . . .

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
Be a star!

http://www.bpwmn.org
Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

To him in whom love dwells, the whole world is but one family.
~Buddha