The Clipboard Man

It is the errand that I dread the most. The one I put off as long as possible. The one that I know I should do, but yet somehow never get around to doing. And also one that frankly, I feel should not be on my list of household chores. As usual, today it is my responsibility.

I pull the car into our local fast lube oil change service center, and I am nervous. I am always nervous about this errand. The assault begins as soon as I stop the car. Clipboard in hand, the technician walks up. "What is the mileage on your vehicle?"

Okay. I can answer this one. But will I be judged and then pressured into an array of additional vehicle maintenance services as a result of the high mileage between oil changes?

I step out of the car and go inside, two children in tow today. We have a seat, and then it is the guy with the clipboard again. "Last time we did a high-mileage oil change. This is the recommended oil change for your vehicle. Will we be doing the same today?"

I know I asked what this meant last visit, but I certainly don't remember. What is the difference in cost? What is the difference in function? I know our car is old, but do they have to rub it in? In the end I tell him to go ahead with the high-mileage oil. With the maintenance schedule of our vehicle, we need all the help we can get, and maybe this is money well spent?

We settle in with our books and our snacks, but I am still on edge. I expect that clipboard guy to reappear again - potentially with terrible news like the car has been contaminated with a horrible metal eating virus and unless I approve a $100 engine flush, it will never operate again.

He does appear again after awhile. "Are you interested in wiper replacement or a transmission fluid change today?" Since I have no idea as to these items, the answer is, "No." I mean I only drive this car once a week or so!

"Here is the recommended maintenance schedule for this vehicle."

Am I supposed to respond in some way to this? He disappears again.

And reappears yet again carrying the car's air filter. Wait. Why is he waving it around in front of me? It looks almost brand new to my untrained eyes.

"Your air filter looks okay. You have some minor leaks of oil and transmission fluid, but nothing that is causing any substantial loss of fluid. I'll just put this back in your car, and we'll get you out of here."

Whoo. We're almost done. I feel like I've worked through a visit to the dentist without any cavities. And the $36 oil change only cost $56 instead of the usual $106 that in my bewildered and frightened state, I normally end of paying.

The problem with this errand is this - I just don't know. I don't know anything about cars and how they work. I don't know how best to keep them running. I don't ever keep track of needed maintenance - I assume Geoff has it covered. Until the car breaks. Or an oil lube tech is waving a broken part in my face. I just don't know. And even worse - I just don't care to know.

A long time ago I had good intentions. I bought my first car out of college. A beautiful, red Jetta Volkswagon with a stick shift. My father nearly collapsed when I suggested a purchase of a car not manufactured in America. But he supported my decision though it was based on aesthetics and not reputation. He taught me how to drive a stick. And he tried to teach me how to change my tires and how to change my oil. Both lessons were a discouraging failure. In my defense, I was just not strong enough to loosen (or probably tighten) the lug nuts on the wheels. Can you picture the wheel rolling right off my car as I drive down the highway? And the oil changing spot on this model was in a particularly inaccessible location. I think my Dad even had problems getting to it. So our lessons fizzled.

I moved across the country soon after, and there my relationship with the quick lube folks began, and soon after the relationship with Geoff. And between one relationship and the other, I have never learned much of anything about cars - except that AAA is usually a sound investment when driving cars of our vintage.

So is it sexist of me to believe that car maintenance should be firmly placed on Geoff's "To Do" List, and that I should never be trusted with an errand of this caliber? Or am I simply dividing errands up as our skill set would dictate? Though I like to think of myself as an independent and intelligent women, when vehicle maintenance is concerned I shrivel up like I am six years old again and just want to be told what to do from a trusted authority.

The kids and I begin our climb into our freshened car, and I am met with the true advantage of one of these service centers. Bless the heart of this brave man with the clipboard, because he actually attempted to vacuum out the car - a car strewn with cleats and soccer balls, stroller and chairs, dirty laundry and fast food wrappers. Three cheers for the clipboard man!