emneville

The world through my eyes relayed to you through my keyboard.

Month: June, 2014

Gunwater

There was a drowning death here in Indy recently. Not to minimize the accidental tragedy, but it was mildly refreshing to find that the teen hadn’t been shot in the back first.

 

Shooting deaths, and vehicle crashes seem to be in vogue as ways to die here in the Circle City. It’s only a matter time before roving bands of dangerous vehicle drivers routinely engage in open firefights and then crash into and kill whomever survived the gunfire. Of course, the innocent will die as well. They always do.

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Gunwater

A Spring Tale

As I sat one day contemplating life and why it’s decided to be so cruel to me, something popped into my head. Spring. No, not the one in your bed that pokes through the surface of the mattress in the middle of the night and reminds you that you have to pee, or loudly lets anyone within twenty feet, walls or not, know that you’re getting laid. I mean the season spring.

 

What the hell happened to it? It seems we went from the lion of March to hotter than July in the snap of a meteorologist’s finger. Who destroyed spring? God? Nature? Humankind? It’s probably a combination of the three with humankind leading the race by at least three laps.

 

I wax poetic about the lost season of spring. Sure, the plant life blooms. It always does until a one-week drought sets in to kill it. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I vacuum up the dead carcasses of the Gray Wolf Spiders that line my wall moldings. Without spring, they made an early run to set up shop in my apartment, but I’d been paranoid about them since January, so I sprayed in February. Oh crap. That was four months ago, and the spray lasts for ninety days. I’ll be fine, I think. The spiders are probably even more confused than am I.

 

What I miss more than anything is having that two months where I can open all the windows, and allow the fresh spring air to force out the stagnant, smelly air of winter. More importantly, I miss the savings I get from turning off my heat, and LEAVING my air conditioning off. That’s what bothers me the most.

A Car Story

In 2011, my wife and I purchased a 2010 Chevy Impala LS from Hare Chevrolet. We were so proud. We didn’t understand we’d gotten hosed until we realized that our monthly payment was enough to rent a room on the space station.

 

A few weeks ago, I received a mail notification that the note could be cut by almost forty percent with the purchase of another car. I made the connection, but I made it clear that I had no down payment, but was willing to make a trade for a smaller car and accept fresh financing for an additional three years as long as the note was lowered by at least $100. My wife agreed, of course. Here’s what happened.

 

We went to an Indy dealership that will remain nameless. I will say that it’s located on US 31 South, just north of the Greenwood Park Mall. We were offered a 2010 Kia. We liked it. Later, however, they said that since we didn’t have cash for a down payment that they could only offer us a brand new Mitsubishi SUV for six years at $50 less per month. This is where it gets good.

 

We turned the deal down. It didn’t make fiscal sense. The dealership wasn’t done. They pitched the 10 year warrantee for the 167th time, and followed that with this question: “What if your car breaks down and it costs thousands to fix it?’ I thought nothing of it. I responded: “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ve had her over three years with only minor problems.” Two weeks later, the check engine light came on.

 

Coincidence? Maybe. All I know is that while we were at the dealership, their mechanics “inspected” our car for more than a half hour – to determine it’s worth – and after I turned down the deal, I was told my car might break down. You do the math. As it is right now, the offending part is a simple fix that can go unrepaired for some time without causing severe damage, but the damage is done as far as my confidence in the dealership. I know what you did. I know who you are. I can’t prove it, but I know.