a screw loose

somewhere between here and las vegas i must have lost a screw, and naturally the possibilities for innuendo are almost too much for me to bear. caution to the wind, the screw holding my front right turn indicator into its place must be lying on the highway somewhere between here and there, and so i had to add to the list of unsavory-sounding tasks to accomplish for my day, which also included pumping tires, changing oil, and getting me, myself, juiced.

the pumping, and the juice (and the coffee and tartine) were easy tasks, as was the oil – and yet i thought the oil would have been the perfect place for the screw. but it turns out it is just not that easy to walk into the jiffy lube, look seriously into the pimples of the teenage boy’s faces, and say “i need a screw; can you help me?” and not just any screw — but a particularly long screw, it seems.

i managed this unlikely request anyway, and after my car was done i was told i had oil leaks, transmission fluid leaks, but that they did not, in fact, have the screw i needed.

when i got into the car and peered out the newly-grimy windows from the boys’ dirty cloths, i wondered where i could drive to where i could see a sign saying “we have the screw you need,” or even better, “we have the perfect screw for you.” you just don’t go around finding things like this lying on the ground when you need them, either, though i can recall several instances of finding screws lying around — just not the right ones.

the big categories of the day have stores or service stations to go along with them. (if i hadn’t pumped my tires and) if my tires blew, god forbid, they have stores that give you nothing but tires. there are places for transmissions. there are gas stations and places for oil changes – without the screws. there is just no place, like the ‘just chairs’ store in san francisco, for screws. ‘just screws.’ further, ‘just screws for moya’s front-right-turn indicator.’ … and in the back of my mind i am aware that if you don’t take care of these little things, they become bigger things. like an entire right-turn indicator lying on the road, or stuck up in the motor somewhere … and then i’d have to go to the ‘new car’ place, or worse.

sometimes its the little screws that hold us together, or keep us apart. i’m sure there’s a pun in here somewhere. it’s just almost too much to bear.