03.28.06

...and hallelujah. Tora Torakku (lo, the sturdy Suzuki cometh--tremble, ye mighty, wail and gnash your teefuses) has passed his DEQ test. That deserves another--

Phew!

Of course I put it all off until the last minute. After work I dashed over to the local Jiffy Lube to get an oil change. Sort of a superstitious ritual. If I get an oil change, maybe Tora will pass the air quality testing thingy.

Mind you, my fickle, betraying body decided to wake me up at 04:15 this morning. Half an hour before my alarum. Grrrrr. I am not in a good mood. I'm tired. Disoriented. Easily confused. (No smart remarks about that being my normal frame of mind. I'll...oooooh...prove you're right.)

Off to Jiffy Lube where they tried to sell me an air filter for $70. Hubba-wubba? Yeah. No. Thanks. I'll take my chances. And buy my own damn air filter and put it in. Oh, and the $21.99 oil change special is on Thursday, not Tuesday. Damn my memory.

Thank goodness for tips. Paid my bill and decided, what the fuck, I'll give the testing station a shot. Up the I-5 at 15:13 in the afternoon. Actually, it was up and stop, up and stop, up and stop. Argh. Finally got off on Lombard and headed towards Mt. Hood.

At least that was beautiful. Golden, setting sunlight lit the snowfields. A plume of cloud was caught on its sharp crest.

Off of Lombard and into the industrial underbelly of north Portland. A sea of storage units, dicey bars, and beverage company warehouses as far as my eyes could see. I followed 12"x12" signs for the DEQ around and under an old bridge. Road work cones directed the traffic into the oncoming lanes. It was challenging. (Remember; very early rising this morning. Argh.)(My coping skills aren't at their peak.)

Found the DEQ, and looked at cars, trucks, cars, and cars in all four lanes. Got directed to lane four (the one with the most vehicles) by a man who clearly enjoyed his beer and deep-fried lard bombs. I stopped behind a guy in an SUV who yapped on his cell phone. (Yes, there are "No cellphone usage" signs everywhere.) The waiting began. Thank goodness for Steven Lynch.

There's something special about Lynch songs. When stuck in the DEQ line, there's nothing better than singing along to such lines as "Damn that's an ugly-ass baby" in a shameless manner.

I seem to have lost my sense of shame somewhere. Oh well. Don't want it back.

My turn came up. The woman that leered into my driver's side window was a sight. Nothing good can come of standing in vehicle emissions every day. Sallow skin, hair so dry it'd crack, and a look of hopeless complacency coupled with a sartorial tour-de-force of government- (very little $$ has been spared to give the sense that no $$ has been spared) issued t-shirt and faded orange safety vest. And Not Jeans.

I, of course, left my renewal form in Tora. Realized it as I walked into the concrete block tunnel/waiting area. Watched as Tora got a hose stuck up his exhaust (without even a kiss!) and his engine revved.

Bing-bang-boom, the test was done. The DEQ employee allowed me to get the form from Tora. This after a brief rant on his part about the stupidity of money and how it didn't really exist or mean anything. I felt pretty fabulous about handing over $75 of imaginary wampum in exchange for two pieces of reflective tape, two pieces of paper, and a staple.

But we passed! *pause for angelic choir and a burst of golden light falling upon my beloved trucklet* I don't have to go through this again for another two years.

Back into Tora, clutching my $75 pieces of tape and paper (and staple). Got to WahferThin Manor without incident. Hopped out of Tora, armed with a spit-moistened tissue. Walked to the rear license plate, bent down, and saw that my sticker was good until the end of April.

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