The PrissMobile blew up today. OK, not really, there was no storm of shrapnel. And the fact that my right hand doesn't know what my left hand is doing is not due to a fragment of hood ornament severing my corpus collosum. What happened was that as I was parking, I observed a cloud of white steam emanating from the grill, and auscultated an accompanying hiss.
Seeing as how I had half an hour to slam out a one-page proclamation or delineation, or whatever this particular class calls the written stuff that we have to write, I locked the PM and walked to the computer lab. Typed, printed, turned in and sat through the session.
Facilities services said that their insurance company does not allow them to help or offer advice about car problems, but they could offer me the use of their telephone book. Surprisingly that did the trick. I found a shop that was not as far away as the one I'd used previously, and the mechanic was able to talk intelligibly. Not wanting to pay for a tow, and especially not wanting to spend hours waiting for one, I decided to brave driving there.
I dumped out what was left of my diet coke, and used the bottle to transfer some tap water to the reservoir. It may have helped, because I got almost all of the way there before the steam started again. The diagnosis is a cracked radiator. It should be replaced by noon tomorrow.
This pushes back picking up my new glasses by a day and means that much longer struggling with the small blurry letters in the Rawls book. Books should include a text zoom feature.
The new frames are very Helen Gurley Brown, very Sophia Loren. In other words, they are huge and nerdy, but somewhat glam.
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