Lube job

I finally got tired of seeing that check engine light on the dashboard- it had been there for months- and decided to carve out some time to get an oil change.  It's not so much that I'm lazy and irresponsible, though that's certainly part of the equation, but who has time for life?  Once a man marries, it's work, family, chores, and precious little else.  The lucky ones get to play golf.  So finding an hour for an oil change, a dentist appointment, and anything else that's not just a few minutes on the way to or from work is a hassle.

It seems so long ago since we changed our own oil.  Who would do that now?  For less than $30 someone else buys the oil, gets dirty, and disposes of the old stuff, and does so relatively quickly.  Of course, I can remember owning a car for which I never changed the oil, and I mean didn't change the oil for 216,000 miles.  I'd put in two or three quarts when the warning light had been on long enough, but I'm closer to an adult now.  So it was off to Jiffy Lube on my way into work.

There were a few older folks ahead of me and seated in the "lounge," so this wasn't going to be quite the jiffy for which I'd been hoping.  They were grousing about illegal immigrants as only older folks can, but at least one older lady gave me a coupon for $12 off (older ladies have all the best coupons), which trumped my $5.00 coupon.  That put me well below my $30 target, the most that I'll pay for an oil change.  I prefer to be in the $20 range, but can justify the added expense at Jiffy for the no-appointment convenience and much needed vacuum, etc.  The better coupon put me closer to $20, so I was feeling fat and happy.  But then I saw each of the old folks going for "the walk."

I've seen "the walk" many times at car service companies, especially brake shops.  You are led out to the shop floor to look at your dismembered automobile to observe the state of disrepair that is your car.  The technician clinically describes the dire circumstances and likely resulting fatality that would result should additional costly repairs not be effected.  For the very old, the very young, and the very female, it's like leading the lambs to slaughter.

I've long since learned what I can, cannot, perhaps can, and prefer not to fix myself, and not to expect the simple little things that I can do myself to have simple little prices when others do them.  The "yeah, sure, it's starting to rain so throw on a couple of windshield wipers" experience many years ago taught me that.  I've blocked out the memory of the price, but it might have been around $40 apiece- quite a shock for just snapping a $15 blade into a j-hook. But as you get older, you sometimes have others fix things that you could fix yourself, as you come to value the time more than the money, and besides, it's nice to have something done right instead of good enough.  As I've written before, when you're younger, you trade time for money, and when you're older, you trade money for time.

What really impressed me about today's "walk" at Jiffy Lube, when my turn inevitably came, was how well these guys presented the add-ons that generate their profit.  In my case, instead of just telling me that it needed a new air filter and cabin filter, or proving it by pointing to the offending parts while still partially assembled, they actually took the filters out, put them on a reasonably clean cloth, dirty side up, for examination.  And I noticed that when paying, the guy talked cars with anybody that cared to.  In my case, I learned that 2011 GM cars cannot be serviced with standard or even synthetic oil, but that GM has developed their own proprietary lubricant for these vehicles.  I don't imagine that, if true, this will come as a pleasant surprise for new GM owners.  I'm sure that chains will develop their own knock-offs so that the owners won't necessarily have to go to the dealers for an oil change, but I'm sure it will cost more than standard, too.  The point is I was impressed with how these guys did their selling and relationship building.  And I actually went for the cabin air filter replacement, which has never been changed in almost 6 years, as that thing is a pain to get to without chipping the vent panels, me with my butter knife, too thick screw driver, cloth and protective tape.  Not worth breaking/chipping the panels to save $10-20.  It would have been years ago, though.

Now to get a new inspection sticker, which is expired.  Hope I get to it before the end of the summer or the beginning of a license suspension.  Wish I had a personal assistant to take care of life for me.

The male anorexia

I mentioned this phrase in passing a while ago, but as I dragged myself out tonight to run, or what passes for running, it makes me think about those guys that actually like to run.  I think that most of us run out of fear or guilt, fear of the consequences of being out of shape, or guilt for not being in shape.  And running requires little preparation, skill, or investment.  Just lace up and go.

As an aside, I think stretching before running is highly overrated.    If it's just a "casual" run, it's a waste of time to stretch. Maybe 10-15 seconds- not 10-15 minutes- of cursory stretching of the calves, quads, and hammies just to get your muscles and brain committed to the idea of the upcoming unpleasantness.  Then just start off fairly slowly to warm up.  If you're going to stretch, stretch after the run,or between runs, and take it easy there too.  I'll bet more people pull muscles stretching than they do distance running.

But back to the male anorexia idea.  I'm not making light of anorexia, as that is a terrible affliction.  I don't really understand the compulsion, how one could have such a strong negative body image as to starve oneself (I can understand bulimia better, but still sad), but I understand that it is a compulsion.  And I think that for some runners, especially male runners, running is a compulsion.  It's not the running that most of us like, it's doing something good for your body that gives us pleasure (or relieves fear or guilt).  In other words, it's not the pleasure of running, but the pleasure of having run. I want to not only be around for my kids and maybe grandkids, but be able to be active with them.  It is a responsibility to health, or maybe the ability to be alone with your thoughts (when you get good enough so that those thoughts are of something other than throwing yourself into traffic to end the pain), that drives most of us to hit the pavement.  But there are too many that "have to run."  I'm not talking about those that treat running as their sport and do so for comptetion.  The have-to runners feel real anxiety if they cannot run at the planned time. They are out in all kinds of weather- intentionally- and don't use their treadmills to hang clothes.  But as compulsions go, you could do a lot worse.

"Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going."  Jim Ryun

or maybe it's just endorphin addiction

Dancing with the stares

That last entry gives rise to yet another whine:  why must seemingly every wedding reception favor the dancing audience with a stirring rendition of "YMCA?"  Most have the Electric Slide and the Macarena, but the Village People seem to be found at all weddings, which is kind of ironic when you think about it.

Most men don't like to dance.  I don't need to substantiate or elaborate here, as it is an obvious truth, and I think I've opined about this previously.  Yet women like to dance, and men want to be with women, so men dance when they have to.  When you're married, that "have to" is pretty much just at weddings.  We can handle the grab and sway slow dance, as that is devoid of skill and pretty close to the only reason we're dancing in the first place, but non-contact dances are humbling experiences for men.  Dances with an athletic component, like swing, get a pass, but unfortunately require learning and skill, and most of us aren't about to take the time and effort to learn a dance when there are so many tools to use and sports to play or watch.

But back to the point.  Men don't like to dance, and it's going to take a lot of drinks to get a man to dance to a song by the Village People.  As it happens, though, there are a lot of drinks.

Can't Stop the Music

I've noticed that a few devices and software, notably the iPod Touch that I own, and the iTunes account that I am therefore essentially forced to use, apparently do not have an off command when playing music.  While this may well be simply yet another manifestation of my significant cognitive limitations, I've read that a lot of people have this same question, i.e., how do you stop the song other than pausing it or switching to another application?  The responses almost universally state that pausing or switching accomplishes the same purpose, and perhaps they do, but there is something disconcerting  about a device or application that  has a start but not a stop, or at  least a stop that is obvious.  I am quite comfortable with ambiguity, but this is different.  This is the other shoe that hasn't dropped, the unfinished symphony, the purpose unfulfilled. I started something, and intend to stop it, but am not allowed to do so, and instead must place the song in a disingenuous stasis.  Where is the execution of purpose? Where is the closure?  Where is the truth?  There is an arrow which  means start, the bars that mean pause, why not an octangular symbol for stop?  Allow me to let that song die with dignity.  (And with that last line you may see that I am not only ruminating about the missing stop button on an iPod Touch.)