(Note: I was supposed to go to the computer (a laptop lent to me by my young adult son since the middle of May, this year) to transcribe on my blog what I've written on my note pad yesterday while at a Subway restaurant near our place but got preoccupied with something else. Anyway, on my note pad, I started with these lines...)
Thursday, 28 July 2011. This morning at ten, after breakfast (of one-third cup of hot oatmeal with a small amount of organic milk), my wife and I went to Virginia Beach, particularly to our bank (one of three, actually) that used to be along Hampton Blvd. in Norfolk, on your way to Norfolk Naval Station/Air Station, collectively called NOB or Norfolk Naval Base (famous for being the world's largest naval base). With our 1999 Toyota Avalon XL which still runs great, to my knowledge (despite having over 125,000 miles on it!), I did the driving this time. In spite of my chronic lower back problem and having teary-eyed, especially my right eye, I tried driving, though, just to give my wife a break from the wheel.
To go to Virginia Beach (the largest city of "Old Dominion" or Virginia, population-wise, we have to pass by a tunnel. I guess that's the Midtown Tunnel. Or, downtown Tunnel? I tell you, honestly, I'm still confused up to this day which one is which, despite the fact that my family and I have lived here in southeastern Virginia for 27 years, from California. That qualifies me, then, to be called a "transplant," right? Anyway, going back to our road trip to Virginia Beach.
Traffic was smooth. We didn't encounter any traffic problem or accident on the road. I suppose or guess that we got lucky, this time, the fact that there's always heavy traffic going to and from Virginia Beach as you get closer to the tunnel. It's commonplace that traffic gets slower as cars are always bumper-to-bumper as you head to the narrow tunnel. As you may know, traffic gridlock has been a problem over here in Hampton Roads.
Arriving at our destination, we were greeted or helped by, shall I call or say, a "kababayan" or female Filipino or Fil-Am bank teller-receptionist who happened to be in one of the counters/windows in that bank. Her name is Carol. (Listening to the way she enunciates or speak English, I guess that she's from the Visayan region, because of her accent.) Friendly and courteous as she was, she provided us with the information that we need to know. Then, she mentioned about their "sales" promo about a particular product. We got curious and interested that we wanted to know more about it. She, therefore, referred us to one of her fellow female bank employees, but we were told to have a seat in the lounge (where there's a big flat-screen television) in that spacious lobby) and wait because she's busy helping with a bank customer. In a few minutes, we were already seen talking to the designated female bank employee in her office. I presumed she's the bank manager. I guessed I was right. My wife and I inquired about this and that. And, Jenny, the one helping us at that moment, was kind and informative, and convincing enough to clarify and answer our queries. Then, my wife and I have made up our mind to try their sales promo product. Let's see what happens, we thought. Before we bade Jenny goodbye and said Thank You to her, we assured her to be back and see her again, perhaps tomorrow, Friday.
Now, at the bank's parking lot, my wife unlocked the car with her remote and key and then tried to start the car. It didn't start! She tried again. And again, she did. The car didn't start at all. Not a click or sound as she turned the key on the ignition. We noticed a faint light that's flashing on and off by the left side of the steering wheel. And on the dash board were some indication lights that appeared. I did try to start with my key, and try several attempts. Nothing. We're becoming frustrated and a bit worried. We got out of the car. And, it was getting hot and humid. (You know that we're in the middle of summer here in America. And the weather forecast yesterday said that heat index/temperature may be in the triple digit today over here in Hampton Roads area.)
Well, to continue my story, I noticed on my watch that it was getting close to noontime. We waited outside as we sought shelter on a shady shrub with lots of flowers. I don't know what the name of the plant is. But, anyway, we're getting impatient. We thought, if our car doesn't start at all then we have to call a towing company. (We'll surely have the car be checked because this is not the first time it happened. It happened to me before, for the first time. I had it checked, then. After a thorough examination, the auto mechanic, who used a monitoring device or machine, said there was nothing wrong with it. One time, when my young son drove it to his friend's in another city, he encountered the same problem on our car when he was about to go home that late night from his friend's. I came to know the following day that the car was towed and that my wife picked my son up that night. The following morning my wife and I went to the service-gas station where our car was that night. I tried to start the car. It worked!)
My wife, then, got in the car and tried to start it again. She noticed there's no light flashing already. Lo and behold! The engine started! Thanks God, we exclaimed! This time, she drove it all the way back to our place. But, on our way back home, we decided to drop by at a Subway restaurant, near our house. There, we had a foot-long tuna sandwich with chips and iced-sweet tea. That's where I scribbled the above three paragraphs of this article. We purchased an extra foot-long sandwich, Spicy Iltalian, supposed to be for my sis-in-law and for my young adult son (who may still be sleeping!) While I was about to start writing on my ruled pad paper, my wife called her sister who happened to be out of the house, at that time in a store and, in ten-fifteen minutes, eventually joined us for lunch. Then, the latter decided to go ahead and go home after lunch (bringing with her my son's sandwich), while my wife and I hang around the restaurant for a while. That's when I started writing this "journal" entry, while my wife was reading a free copy of the community newspaper that's available outside of the strip mall where we were. Later on, we left for home. The car was running good. What a day!
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