It’s not a nice feeling when you need to stop your car and your brake pedal goes all the way down to the floor. I got that feeling today. So my car is in the shop.
Tomorrow I was going to drive down to Keyport on the Garden State Parkway and treat us to some superb sea food from the Keyport Fishery. I try to look on the bright side. If my brakes had waited just another day, and then failed me on the Parkway, it might’ve been adios, muchacho, for me. Thankfully we have a reliable mechanic who’s serviced our cars for forty years. Whatever’s wrong, he’ll fix it.
*Sigh* It was Aunt Joan’s car originally, a 1999 Taurus. She didn’t get much use of it. I’ve tried to take good care of it, but we have no garage, it’s year-round exposure to the elements, and parts wear out.
The last time I had this experience, I owned Uncle Bernie’s car and had driven all the way down the Parkway to see my mother. I didn’t find out I had no brakes until I started back home. Made for an unsatisfactory conclusion to the day.
At least I didn’t get killed.