Oil Diaries
Yes, the car service saga continued into the New Year.
It’s now a month past our driving holiday – six weeks past the date I first noticed the service was drastically overdue - and still no signs of Rod making any moves to schedule a service appointment. Meanwhile, the kilometers are ticking up on the odometer at an alarming rate….
My parents were visiting and we all happened to be driving together in the car when I decided to ‘out’ Rod to my father.
Now, you have to understand, I come from a family of men who were – and are – EXTREMELY particular about their cars. They are especially particular about ensuring the engine is serviced regularly. If the car manufacturer recommends an oil change at 5000 miles, my grandfather and father would get the oil changed at 2500 miles. That’s just the way things have always been done in the family – until Rod the Rebel joined us, that is.
So, yeah, I thought I’d ‘out’ him. Doing so would hopefully teach him a lesson and would also be kinda funny to watch!
“Hey dad,” I say. “Rod hasn’t changed the oil in this car for 10 months and he’s 12,000 miles overdue in getting it serviced. What do you think about that?”
“Wha . . . tha . . . . huh . . . “ my father grunted without making any logical sense. I think he was actually in a kind of shock. We were 50 miles from home and I suspect he was suddenly fearful we may be stranded in Podunk, New Zealand, awaiting public transport because we would be breaking down at any moment.
“Why haven’t you got the oil changed?,” my father exclaimed.
Heather: “He actually didn’t know where the oil went.” This is more like getting your brother in trouble . . . . it was fun.
More shocked and amazed sounds from my father, “We’ve gotta book this thing in this week, we can’t be running around the countryside without knowing what’s going on under the hood. You need to keep better care of your cars!”
As the days progressed, my father was relentless. “Rod, did you book that car in for a service today,” he’d say as Rod came home from work. “Not yet, tomorrow,” he would say.
At random points during the day, my father would say to me, “Call Rod, tell him to book that car in!” I would do so, to no avail.
Finally, upon deciding he was sick of the prodding, Rod did book the car in. All was hunky dory under the bonnet and my father breathed a sigh of relief.
I’m not sure if Rod learned a lesson or not, but it made for some humourous moments anyway….
It’s now a month past our driving holiday – six weeks past the date I first noticed the service was drastically overdue - and still no signs of Rod making any moves to schedule a service appointment. Meanwhile, the kilometers are ticking up on the odometer at an alarming rate….
My parents were visiting and we all happened to be driving together in the car when I decided to ‘out’ Rod to my father.
Now, you have to understand, I come from a family of men who were – and are – EXTREMELY particular about their cars. They are especially particular about ensuring the engine is serviced regularly. If the car manufacturer recommends an oil change at 5000 miles, my grandfather and father would get the oil changed at 2500 miles. That’s just the way things have always been done in the family – until Rod the Rebel joined us, that is.
So, yeah, I thought I’d ‘out’ him. Doing so would hopefully teach him a lesson and would also be kinda funny to watch!
“Hey dad,” I say. “Rod hasn’t changed the oil in this car for 10 months and he’s 12,000 miles overdue in getting it serviced. What do you think about that?”
“Wha . . . tha . . . . huh . . . “ my father grunted without making any logical sense. I think he was actually in a kind of shock. We were 50 miles from home and I suspect he was suddenly fearful we may be stranded in Podunk, New Zealand, awaiting public transport because we would be breaking down at any moment.
“Why haven’t you got the oil changed?,” my father exclaimed.
Heather: “He actually didn’t know where the oil went.” This is more like getting your brother in trouble . . . . it was fun.
More shocked and amazed sounds from my father, “We’ve gotta book this thing in this week, we can’t be running around the countryside without knowing what’s going on under the hood. You need to keep better care of your cars!”
As the days progressed, my father was relentless. “Rod, did you book that car in for a service today,” he’d say as Rod came home from work. “Not yet, tomorrow,” he would say.
At random points during the day, my father would say to me, “Call Rod, tell him to book that car in!” I would do so, to no avail.
Finally, upon deciding he was sick of the prodding, Rod did book the car in. All was hunky dory under the bonnet and my father breathed a sigh of relief.
I’m not sure if Rod learned a lesson or not, but it made for some humourous moments anyway….
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