Changing the Oil (Part II)

For those of you who know me, you know that I'm not the handiest guy in the world when it comes to cars.  In fact, I'm not the handiest guy in the world with anything that relates to using my hands for that matter.  I titled this blog for a reason, and I won't go into Part I of changing the oil, but let's just say the first oil change I did on the first car that Catherine and I bought together (the Nissan) did not go as planned.  At least hypothetically.

It should come as no surprise then that here in the Middle East, I 'hypothetically' have another automobile faux pas.  With the recent windstorm lifting the table and smashing it into the windshield of our van, it became apparent that we wouldn't be able to drive it on any joy rides or school trips, so I called the rental company to come and pick it up. I was a little nervous that we would have to pay for 'the act of God', but figured we could make the difference out on the next Fast Offering.  Someone must have realized my evil plan because the car rental guys arrived here and indicated that it was no problem, they would just take it back to the lot and then replace it and give it back to me.  They promptly jumped into the van and began driving it to the highway and then to the shop.  Hopefully you saw the windshield. I'm sure if we would have been in the US, they would have been pulled over half a dozen times, but here, no big deal.

I went with them in another car and we arrived at the rental shop and we decided to just get a different van altogether. After an hour or two of small talk and tea (I just had water thank you), we got around to looking at the new van and then writing the new contract. Nothing really happens in business in the ME until you have that cup of tea or coffee. I must say, it gives me plenty of chances to talk about the gospel as I always refuse and then have to explain before I give offense and have my tongue cut out for spurning the hospitality of the natives.  Once I play the religion card, I usually get a free pass, and then they only want to offer me Nescafe because that isn't really coffee or tea.

I began the trip home (I won't go into the part about being completely lost and out of gas) and pulled into the gas station across from our villa.  I wasn't paying much attention, I was tired, hungry, anxious to kick up my feet for the weekend and so just asked the attendant to give me 30JD of gas.  He said something I didn't pay too much attention to, and then I counted out my money and waited. He came back, and I started to drive off when the car started smoking and lurching.  My words were choice as I reflected on the lemon of a van those rental cheapskates gave me!  I had to push the van muttering under my breath when the attendant ran over to help.  As I actually paid attention to him this time, he indicated that I filled up with diesel, and maybe that was the problem. Durrr, you think so?  I asked him how that could be because the nozzles in America are a different size than the gas tank and so it wouldn't even fit.  The response, a classic ME roll of the eye, and then a quick, "Ya sayyid, mish muguud fii Amrika."  Or, "You silly, silly man, look around, you aren't in freakin' America. Durrr.  Please don't tell me you've changed your oil lately also."

Our next conversation was basically me pleading for a solution and him pointing me down to an oil change shop just up the strip mall from the gas station.  I walked over there, hands in pockets, head down, and sheepishly asked the guys if they could help out.  Suddenly, these guy came out of the woodwork.  Three or four ran over to my car and began pushing it back to their shop. We hoisted it up and drained the gas (30JD is a lot of gas by the way), then pulled it back and hoisted one side to better drain. These guys were laughing and having fun at my expense (see comments above), and all I could do was agree.  I thought about sharing my oil change story with them, but thought better of it. I don't want them to think all Americans are this dumb or we'll have our hands full in the Middle East.

We got it all drained (about 45 minutes), then the guys got behind the van,m and pushed it back over and filled it up with Super Unleaded this time.  We also added some detergent or cleaner or something (in a green bottle) that they said would help.  We ended up adding a couple of them just for good measure. The fateful moment came, and after a couple of smokey belches, we got it going and drove around for a bit. There we were, one crazy American, and four Arab grease monkeys joying around in a Hyundi H1. It was just like the old days cruising around BYU in the Red Rodent with the side door open and picking up coeds at Provo Park, ahhh the good old days.  Well, there weren't any coeds to be found, so ended up dropping off the boys and giving them a tip (money because they were the ones giving me a tip also - don't put diesel in unleaded), and then headed for home to face the music.

For those of you who know Bubs, this is not going away anytime soon.