I'll Check it When I Damn Well Feel Like it.

December 23, 2008

Dear "Check Oil" Light,

I've noticed you've been around more lately. Things never used to be this way. I remember a time when you would only come around once or twice a year. Now it seems you're here everyday.

I understand your concern and I appreciate your attention to detail, but I'm writing to let you know that I have things completely under control.

I know that I am taking a risk by driving with you around, but it is a risk that I will just have to live with. You see, it is quite out of the question that I stop. The people of Duluth need their burritos and you need to cooperate with me on this.

So, with this letter, I am officially asking you to leave. If you fail to comply, I will be forced to cover you with a little piece of electrical tape.

I hope it won't come to that.

Thank you,

Dave

Could I Have the Snow Salsa on the Side?

It's been three years since I last drove in winter weather. I feel that amount of time gave me the opportunity to develop the sense of fear and respect that this kind of driving deserves. It now scares the hell out of me.

So I asked myself, "How can I overcome this newly self-assigned fear?"

I answered myself thus: "I'll get a job that involves driving constantly."

The people living on the terrifyingly steep streets of Duluth need their burritos- especially during snow storms.

On Sunday, it snowed most of the day. I would give you an estimate of inches, but I'm not good at that sort of thing (making small talk in Minnesota at this time of year almost impossible for me).

On Monday I drove to work at 10:45 am. I almost lost it on the first curve, but I turned into the skid and pumped the brakes and whatnot and regained control. For the rest of the trip I built up what could be defined as a tenative confidence. Then when I tried to park in front of the restaurant, the car refused to stop and I almost slid into the back end of a truck. I went into the Burrito Union, clocked in, and quietly had an anxiety attack.

Luckily the deliveries were few and far between and I was able to deliver burritos (at about the pace of a Zamboni machine).

So I'm facing my fear of winter driving and it's teaching me a valuable lesson. Maybe next I'll go bungee jumping or I'll buy a pet spider; or maybe I'll just eat a granola bar and watch another season of "Aquateen Hunger Force."

I Begin a Delivery Job With a $300 Car (two-thirds paid off)

I remember sitting on the airplane on the way home from Zambia and thinking that my life would begin again. I guess I had taken on a bit of the Zambian viewpoint that America is a sort of material paradise and that you are simply handed money when you step off the plane.

For those of you that haven't heard, I no longer work at the Southside Mini Mart. My gas station anecdotes from here on out will have to be from the vantage point of a customer. I am not sad about this at all.

I'm going to keep the name "Cigarettes and Gasoline" because it's catchier than "Commit Lozenges and Ethanol."

I have a new job. I deliver food for a communist-themed burrito joint in Duluth, Minnesota. I know what you're thinking: no blogging material there.

It will be tough, but I'll try to manage.

So I begin a new chapter in Cigarettes and Gasoline. I'm calling it, "I Want A Burrito Right Now- I Want It Perfect And I'm Not Leaving My House For It."

Go ahead and visit www.burritounion.com