Last night, my husband said that if I were going to the Gamma Quadrant, he would go with me. This loyalty is just one of the many reasons I love my husband. (Moreover, if I have to go to the Gamma Quadrant, I'm definitely not going without my husband.) So this morning when he asked me to go outside with him to look at the car engine, I reciprocated the loyalty, even though I had been planning to do some Bible study preparation. The driveway is a lot closer than the Gamma Quadrant.
He opened up the hood, and began pointing out various fluids that looked low or dirty. Trying to be helpful, I pointed to one vat and said, “Is that the windshield wiper fluid?”
“No,” he said instructively, “Windshield wiper fluid is over there.” Then he said, “Now, where is the cabin filter? You would think it would be in the cabin,” he said, opening the front door of the car.
I warned, “I don’t recommend you do anything that requires taking off the front panel of the car interior.”
He searched the owner’s manual. I whispered, “Pep Boys!” but my subliminal message did not get through. Then I said, “I’m going inside to google ‘replacing cabin air filter’ for this car.” I found a very helpful video, in which a pair of hands, purportedly belonging to an ordinary person, replaced the cabin filter in 1 minute and 24 seconds. (Hint: it requires taking off the glove compartment.)
When I went back outside to report my find, I found my husband setting up with a simple but impressive siphoning device that anyone from the Gamma Quadrant would admire. He said, “Help me replace this steering fluid.”
“But I was going to prepare for my Bible study,” I protested.
He said, “But this is more fun!” Then he appealed to my frugal side. “The Automotive Services Swindling place wanted to charge me $60, but I can do it for $3.00.”
After holding the siphoning tube for a few minutes, I decided that, no, replacing the steering fluid is not more interesting than the Crossing of the Sea on Dry Land. I fetched the Common Household Son, saying, “Go learn how to replace the steering fluid, so you can do that for me when I am 75 years old.”
My son, seeing an opportunity for owning my car in the future, said, “Does this mean that when you are 75, I can have this car?” I told him this car would be long rusted away a quarter century from now. Besides, by the time I’m 75, he’ll probably be in the Gamma Quadrant.