Those Are the Brakes

Several days ago, I heard the “crickets” start to chirp on my front brakes. My mechanic was on vacation until Monday. His first opening was yesterday. I drove my car to his garage and left it for him to work into his schedule. My daughter, Anna picked me up and after breakfast, we went shopping.

Breakfast at Brady’s Restaurant is a pleasant experience. The food is good, the view of a small pond and ducks relax you, and the prices are reasonable. I had a normal meal of breakfast food and Anna had the sweet potato pancakes and sausage. I sampled hers. It was delicious.

In the afternoon, Anna drove me to the garage. He was finished, but still needed to take it for the after-repair drive. While he was on the drive, I talked to a woman who was 88 years old. She knew my parents and grandparents. It was nice to chat with her until my car returned.

I followed the owner of the garage. He said, “Here’s the good news. The work is done.” Then he said, “The bad news is that you needed brake pads on all four wheels….” He paused and then said, “And all four rotors too. The winter salt damaged and pitted the rotors.”

What can I say? The fall on the ice at the beginning of February, the two bleeds in my head, and having my car sit from February until March was taking another toll. I wasn’t particularly happy, but I needed my car.

 My Malibu does drive nicely, no chirping of the crickets, but my wallet is a whole lot lighter.