The Water Bill

My car has this weird issue where it won’t start right away when it’s really cold out. I know, I know, I sound like one of those people who think that everything they experience is special simply because THEY are the one experiencing it. (“Really, Brian, who DOESN’T expect a little car trouble on cold winter mornings? Get over yourself.”) But please, just hear me out for a second.

My daily routine is fairly: I wake up, shower, get dressed, kiss the wife good-bye, and leave, locking the door to the apartment (safety first!) behind me before heading to the car. As soon as I step outside, I hold my car key tight in one fist and blow on it like a pitcher trying to warm up his hand during an April night game in Cleveland. I’m telling you, I go to town on the thing. If I’m lucky, this warms the key up enough to trick the ignition into thinking that it’s not really that cold outside and it should start with minimal protest. (It often starts with a groan – but it starts – and I give the gas a little kick. I like to think of that little jolt as my car’s morning coffee. You’re welcome, car.) If I’m unlucky, the ignition laughs at me briefly, the starter sort of halfheartedly tries to catch, and then…nothing but silence and sadness. And no coffee for that sumbitch either.

My wife looked it up on the Internets and learned that it’s some sort of glitch in the security system that only occurs when it’s cold. The only solution, short of taking it to a mechanic and having them actually fix it (who does that?), is to wait ten minutes and try again. To date, this has only failed to work once or twice, on those North Pole Cold mornings, and always by the third try.

The problem, of course, is that I’m habitually late (it’s sort of my “thing”) and don’t always have those ten minutes to spare. Like this morning. When that happens, I go back into my apartment, grab the wife’s keys, and steal her car. Occasionally I’ll yell up the stairs, “I’m taking your car!” and she’ll groggily reply, “Whatever,” or, “No, I need it today!” But by that time, I’m gone.

Really, that was just a way of using three hundred words to say that I was drove my wife’s car to work today, and while I was driving around, I noticed that she had tucked the water bill into the visor. So I texted her to see when it was due. It didn’t have to be in for another week or so*, but she said she had been forgetting to drop it off, so I offered to bring it by the Water Utilities building (that may not be the right name, but that’s what I’m calling it) after work.

*We’re trying this weird new financial philosophy called Paying Our Bills On Time, because – get this – the people you owe money to? They LIKE IT when they get your money on time! I KNOW! I was shocked too! I always thought they were calling me every day just to say hi!**

**I just asked my wife if it was bad to joke about our financial difficulties in a post. She said yes. Then I read her that paragraph – she laughed and said, “Okay, that’s funny.” So laugh, goddammit.

When I offered to do this, I forgot that the Water Utilities building is awful to approach after dark, for three reasons:

1. It’s located at the end of a long, not-exactly-straight road. This isn’t bad during normal business hours because you can drive into the parking lot and turn around. After quittin’ time, however, they have one of those big chain link gates that comes across, turning the road into a dead end and requiring a thirteen point turn if you want to leave. If somebody pulls in behind you? I honestly have no idea what you would do, short of a) trying to communicate through a series of complex hand gestures, b) using your headlights and brake lights to coordinate your escape via Morse code, or c) talk to each other and say, “Hey, you make your thirteen point turn first, then I’ll make mine. And if one of those wild packs of Milford teens that roams the railroad tracks should fall upon me before I can get out, don’t turn back. For the love of God, man, don’t turn back.”

I suppose you COULD just back up. I tried it once, and it was thrilling. But again, you run the risk of backing around a corner into some other stupid schmuck who decided to pay his bill early.

2. There are maybe 1 ½, maybe two, car lengths between this chain link fence and the railroad tracks that cut through town. The first problem, of course, is that one might inadvertently back up into an oncoming train. This isn’t as big an issue as we might fear, however, because the sight lines are fairly good and these aren’t bullet trains we’re talking about. They move slow enough to take evasive maneuvers if necessary. No, the real issue is that these train tracks, like all train tracks, are kinda scary.

Now maybe that’s a bit unfair. I mean, train tracks have feelings too, right? And I live close to these very same tracks, and I’ve never had a problem. But I always feel like there COULD be a problem, if things break just right. The teenagers with perfectly normal, happy lives who decide to stir up some trouble, just because. The lonely drifter with nothing to lose who barely knows one town from the next. The nice lady in her fifties walking her brand new 728-pound Rottweiler puppy that she can’t possibly control.

The tracks are generally safe. But rest assured, when something weird like this goes down, I’ll be dropping off my water bill. That’s a guarantee.

3. Speaking of dropping off my water bill: the drop box is about two feet from the evil chain link fence, making it impossible to pull up, roll down the window, leave the money, and drive away. No, you have to stop the car, get out, walk to the drop box, drop the bill in, double-check to make sure the bill went down into the box, walk back to the car, and get back in. So much can occur while this is happening, like all the stuff I mentioned above. (And zombies! I didn’t even mention zombies! What if I walk back to my car and a zombie snuck into the back seat? Where will I be then? Do you know how hard it is to execute a nineteen-point turn with a zombie trying to eat your brains? Pretty fucking hard.)

Anyway, that’s why I had to drop off the water bill tonight, and why I hate having to do it after dark. Fortunately, none of this stuff actually happened, as evidenced by the fact that I’m here to tell my invigorating tale. But make no mistake – it could have happened. Oh yes, it all could have happened.

I suppose there’s always next quarter.