I met some random dude in one of the flyover states.
My car’s pissing antifreeze all over the place and I was having trouble finding another gallon of it at the last two truck stops I visited.
He suggested I stop at the Wal-Mart. He said they’re open 24 hours and they’d be the only place for miles that had coolant and synthetic oil.
“Just pull over at the next exit, I’ll give you a ride.”
Shrug, random as hell.
He has a 2011 BMW with more or less the same engine as my car and a misfire on cylinder 1. He complained that he had just replaced his plugs and coils.
I asked him what kind of plugs he used.
Regular spark plugs.
I said you need to use the Bosch 4-prong Platinums, to go ahead and pull those new plugs out and shine a light down in the cylinder and I bet you good money there’s been spark detonation up against the cylinder walls.
I guess if you’re going to fuck around and remove them you may as well replace them though.
He suggested I get a hotel in the area, but I’m like, not in the mood to do anything that requires privacy. When he told me that his daughters are having a sleepover with another girl visiting I was like, dude, you’re responsible for someone else’s kid tonight. You need to go home.
We hung out and watched car videos in his car for awhile.
I could tell he was lonely and that he didn’t really want to go home.
I get it.
Your kids are a blessing, you get that, right?
I had a half a thought about disappearing into the corn somewhere and spending my days working on our shitty BMWs and watching car videos together.
Sounds fun to me. The older I get, the easier it is for me to be happy with the simple stuff.
But… I don’t know there’s a story here and this guy’s deeply unhappy. Kids and maybe a wife for all I know.