This Little Light of Mine

'Tis the season, and I'm really getting into it. K and I bought a (fake, shh) tree and some decorations this weekend, and it came out really well. I'm not sure how it happened - we both grew up with traditions of Christmas trees loaded with all kinds of colors and homemade stuff - but we ended up with a total Martha Stewart-quality tree! The lights are all white, and the decorations are all variations of "champagne" - down to (er, up to) the little Santa perched on top of it all. (And there are bows! And ribbons! How girly is that?) I'm not sure it's really "me" (or "us" for that matter - after all, we're the people with mealworms in the fridge), but it's definitely beautiful, it's pleasant to sit by, and it makes our house look fantastic. And we did it together, ourselves, and had fun.

So much am I getting into the Christmas spirit that my beloved '99 Jetta, Otto (yes, that's his real name, and yes, I do realize how unoriginal that is - Roy's best friend had a Beetle named Otto back in the day too, I know, I know) has decided to help out by lighting up his little dashboard lights for me. The "you need more windshield wiper fluid" light came on first; I like that one. It's symmetrical, unassuming, and doesn't mean anything dire. You just go get new windshield wiper fluid... whenever... and go on your merry way. (Which I did, later that day.) But I guess Otto thought I needed more help celebrating, because yesterday morning on my way to work (at, to borrow HV's phrase, oh-dark-thirty) he decided to light up my life with the "Check Oil" bulb on the dashboard. It's like 6:00 in the morning, 20 degrees out, I'm at least 3 miles from civilization and I have a train to catch. My choices are: keep driving to the train station and hope the car doesn't explode, keep driving to the nearest gas station (literally, across the street from the train station - not much help there) and hope the car doesn't explode, or stop driving. And then I pause to wonder, "what would Jesus do?"

Yeah, no I don't. (C'mon, you know me better than that!) What I really do is drive to the train and decide I'll deal with it when I get back. And when I get back, I read the owner's manual which tells me that "the check oil light doesn't always indicate low oil pressure. If the light comes on and stays on, stop driving immediately and call your dealer for service." Oh, shit! Well, too late now. I can't get it serviced right now anyway, I'm 10 miles from the nearest VW dealer, and they're already closed for the night. Now what?

After conferring with multiple men (well, two, Dad & K), I hop over to the gas station and dump in a quart of oil in hopes that the light will magically go away. It doesn't, but at least I know there's oil in the car. (For anyone else out there automotively-challenged like me, apparently the only danger of "Check Oil" is operating with too little oil. If you know for sure that have oil, then you're good.) So then I head up to Jiffy Lube, praying all the way for my car not to explode, and ask the nice young (and I mean YOUNG) man about it while getting the oil changed. (Sometimes being a girl has its advantages - it means I can play helpless with mechanics when I need to.) He confirmed what Dad & K said, namely that as long as there's oil in the car, "it's just a light" -- doesn't mean anything, just needs to be reset. But they can't reset it at Jiffy Lube, unfortunately - I need to go to a dealer for that... (anyone wanna bet how much it's gonna cost me to reset that? Bids start at $49.95.)

So, Otto's little light will continue to brighten my car for the time being. Wish me luck and a non-exploding car until I can get him looked at!

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

Happy Holidays!

Love,
J