Part of my ‘killing time’ collection. Be advised, I’m not suggesting it’s time to kill.
Gritty(er), (more) industrial. My morning run around Hanover, PA, not on foot, but on wheels. My car, the Hyundai, the ‘good’ one, needs service. It burns oil, consumes oil, a mechanic recently said. I brought it to the Honda dealership where I bought it used two years ago. “Do you want the extended warranty,” they asked. You know how this works, two thousand bucks and nothing goes wrong. Insurance yes, peace of mind, but wasted money. That was the case with our other car, the Mazda, the ‘old’ one. It keeps running. The Hyundai has problems. Each summer the air conditioner fails. Each winter, it’s the back-up camera. The car doesn’t like extremes.
Honda passed on this service call, they sent me to Hyundai. A four-thousand-mile consumption test. How much oil does it really eat? Burning oil might equal expensive. And not necessarily on warranty. Used cars include risk.
I appreciate Gettysburg’s clean look. Tourist shops and restaurants, well cared for homes. Hanover sprawls, extends, shop after shop, built and never restored. Sold to a new owner when it’s time to upgrade. Old lots converted into car dealerships, service stations, rental agencies. Or left as factories, stamping out potato chips year after year. All need paint, power-washing, paving. The color of Hanover is dinge.
I took today off work. Hoping for a quick fix, a few hours, some time to write. Honda has a top-notch waiting area, leather sofas, massaging recliners, music, snacks, free Pac-Man. At Hyundai, the chairs unmatch with stained cushions smooshed flat, they’re uncomfortable to sit in. But the coffee’s strong, and no one else is here. Time to kill.