I stopped at this gas station one day

Greg "G-Clef" Kirschner once named my car, the HMS Invincible. This was because HMS is the pre-cursor to british navy boats, standing for Her Majesty's Royal Service, I believe. The invincible part was because nothing could destroy it. The past few weeks have proved that the HMS Invincible is indeed not invincible (therefore, it will be called the SS Buick now).

A week ago the car, a 1996 Buick LeSabre, was incapacitated for some reason. I knew not why or when this inability to start came to pass. I remembered that my last trip in the car was successful, with no problems, puttering, etc. Time would tell me what happened, but for the time being I was deeper in my constant state of confusion. I went on to take the SS Buick in for a check-up at PepBoys.

For those of you who don't know Manny, Moe, and Jack are the PepBoys, and apparently one bends you over while one violates you, and Jack stands in your eye-view to point and laugh. Manny, Moe, and Jack actually represent inconvenience, violation, and embarrassment, the three stages of my interaction with PepBoys. When I dropped off the car with the assistance of Karen, I was told that an electronics test must be run and will last for some time. How long? Who knows? Upon my return to PepBoys after running errands, I was partially scolded for leaving and not being available at my home in New Jersey. This boggled my mind, but I continued to listen as the serviceman told me that my alternator was bad and needed to be replaced. "Go for it!" I said with joy-- for my car would be back to normal again. Alas, after the replacement I drove back to school and parked; I even made it back in time for dinner.

A class that took place in the field was scheduled for tomorrow (which is not nearly as exciting as it may sound). When I turned the key... no start. After a harrowing night, I met with Greg to discuss the future of the SS Buick. We decided a trip to PepBoys was in order. When I jumped the car and got it there, they started it up and it worked. "Look," I said, "Keep it-- it won't start tomorrow morning." They did so and sure enough, it didn't start. But, my finely trained service technician found that the interior dome light was on. Great. So, in summary, my battery kept going dead because of the light, and that was that. Also, you may have seen the outline of the experience here: I was inconvenienced by taking Karen out of her way (Manny), violated in my wallet because a $260 alternator didn't need replacing because it was the interior light (Moe), and embarrassed by the technician upon hearing it was the light (Jack). Of course, he should have been embarrassed that he didn't catch it earlier, but then we would have only had Manny and Jack, we needed the violation of Moe to make it a true PepBoys experience!

That wasn't all for my car woes of this month. No-no. I also got my first speeding ticket on August 8, 2004 (which I understand falls outside of the month time constraints). I got an 80 mph in a 65 mph ticket on the PA Turnpike, a road in which 75 is the median speed. While I was admittedly in violation, I did not want my insurance to go up. The only option I had was to plead not-guilty. Surely with my very first ticket after 4 safe years of driving, they would let me off easy, right?

As I suited up for the day of a lifetime on October 4, I decided that I would remain calm for the day and leave early, so not to be late. After breakfast with Karen I hopped in the car and made my way to the borough of Weatherly out by Jim Thorpe, PA. Weatherly is a frustratingly small town with a seeming abundance of elderly people. I was only in the area for a couple hours, so I can't make an informed judgment, but that's my uninformed judgment.

The ride started with MapQuest, which took me on a long, loopy trip that could have been one straight road. When I recognized the surroundings of Downtown Hazleton, I was comforted, but surely not relieved. Before reaching Hazleton though, I did drive alongside a cliff, which I peered off of to see a valley covered in spilling fog, much like a witch's cauldron. As this disturbing image came across my eyes, "Riders on the Storm" played on my car radio. I was chilled to the bone because of the spookiness of each element. Then the song faded out to static, as if to say, "Morrisson couldn't even make it around here." This would probably be true, but if that wasn't a bad enough time, I had another later.

Imagine, get a hair cut, then go two doors down to your hearing

After pulling up to the shopping center that held the courthouse--yes, the court was in a shopping center-- I parked for a bit to observe the locals. It was funny to watch them pull up to a store or cafe only to realize that it's closed this, and every, Monday. How shocked some people were. This was particularly humorous to me because the sign clearly stated "Open Tuesday-Sunday" in big, unchangeable letters that were there for some time. I walked into the waiting room looking for a glimpse of the judge. I was looking because Karen's friend knew him and contacted him about my case. The judge told Karen's friend, "I'll do what I can, but if the officer doesn't want to cooperate, I can't do much." I wanted to see the kindly man I would be before in minutes. I saw the big friendly looking man come out all happy and jovial. It was a calming sight. Right before I was called in, I picked up the local paper, and in boredom read the horoscope page, "Pisces: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Be weary of anything that is wildly optimistic." And with that, the officer escorted me into the courtroom.

Before we get to the juicy stuff, you must know that from the waiting room to the court room the cop was quite unappealing. First, he made a few racial jokes and comments that were a bit inappropriate. Then, I overheard him talking to another officer explaining that he had been on the job for 14 years and after 6 more he would retire and collect his pension. This filled me with comfort that he really had the people in mind when he took on the job of law enforcement. Lastly, upon bringing me in, he said, "That lady out there looks like that figure skater, Oksana Baiul. I don't remember giving her a ticket. You think I would." This led me to believe that since I have boy parts and not a drunken figure skating body, I was essentially screwed.

Boy was I right.

Apparently, in Pennsylvania, they give you some time with the officer who ticketed you so that he can say, "Screw you," or "Here's a break." My cop asked me who I was, and oddly enough he had my paper right off to the side. He said, "I'm willing to cut you down to 71 in a 65, that's a two point violation. Is that acceptable?" All the while making sure to not make any eye contact in a very manly-coward-esque way. I said I would prefer one or no points. It was at that junction our friendly cop decided he should lose his mind. In fits of yelling he complained about the New Jersey traffic court system and cited differenced by saying, "We don't do that HERE!!!" and, "You're gonna get points! No matter what you're gonna get points!" Aside from being confused by the whole court system thing, I was completely thrown by a man of the law flipping out for no reason. The judge came in and had just about no say in the matter, and I got two points in addition to the $146.50 fine I had to pay. That too was quite the interesting situation in that you pay the fine before you go to court. Since they cut my violation to 6 miles over, I get a refund now. The officer also cited the bargain that NJ makes as another thing that "We don't DO HERE!" This is when you get one big fine and no points instead of points and a small fine. Of course, I got the small fine and points. What a bunch of crap, huh?

All in all I wasted a day, money, and logic on one big day in Weatherly, PA. It was a useless trip and I didn't bother to visit Kyle afterwards because it was such a worthless and disappointing day. Maybe next time Kyle... maybe next time. Oh-- and don't get a ticket in PA. That is all.