Golda

My car's name is Golda, named after her color (a nice champagne) and the character on Fiddler on the Roof. She's great.

Well, was great. Last week Golda began sounding deep and throaty--you know--the good morning voice (thankfully without the breath), the congested feeling. I figured it was the muffler, but my pretend-mechanic friend figured it was the air filter. We tried all sorts of tricks, but nothing worked. He said not to worry about it, but poor Golda's voice haunted me.

Of course, I worried about money, how to find a trustworthy mechanic, and time. I discovered that another friend had a family friend from Vietnam who conveniently works at the Honda dealership. I took Golda in early this morning, and sure enough, Abee showed me the rusted out hole in the muffler. It looked horrible. I wonder if it's from all the road salt.

At any rate, within 45 minutes, Abee had replaced the muffler and given me his employee discount on parts, charging me only half for the labor. Bless his Vietnamese heart. I guess he only works one day a week now that he's back in school, and Wednesday just happens to be the only day I don't have class, so it worked out perfectly. I love that there are honest mechanics, that there are people eager to help and serve, and that I'm in the right place at the right time.

And Golda runs like butter now. Don't you all wish you could have a ride?