Depressed

A week ago at this time I was in downtown Baltimore wondering where the hell I was and how I’d get out of there. Today I’m trapped in the house with no vehicle. The tranny finally went out on the van last night. Kaput. Well, mostly. I can drive forward in the towing gears. I learned this after I pushed the van out of a parking spot yesterday. Called a shop this morning and they said they’d look at it and let me know what was wrong. That’d take an hour to an hour and a half. Okay. At least that’s an hour I can sit in the reception area and maybe finish Brian Keene’s Terminal. They ain’t got no reception area, so I walked home in the muggy heat. Three hours later I call them to see what’s up and they say they’ll be looking at the van right after lunch.

I fear what they’re going to tell me. $1,000? More? Damned if I know. It’s been 15 years since I’ve messed with a transmission. You could buy a used one for about $75 then, but that was for early ’70s Ford pickups. We spent $700 just getting a new waterpump put in this van last year.

And I had a fucking job then.

In some ways I feel like I’m on a descending spiral that’s just a little slower than the one Milton traveled in Amara’s Prayer. Yeah, Gayleen, Paul and Cheryl are the only ones who are going to have a clue what I’m talking about.