Last weekend the knight called me to catch up, and I mentioned that I thought my clutch was going out. We agreed he’d look at it on Monday. Over the weekend I traveled all over with no problem, and even Monday morning I had a press check near downtown, and still had no problem. My boss and I decided to get lunch and I volunteered to drive, and that’s when it happened, my clutch went out. We called the knight to come and rescue us. He then had my car flatbed towed to his mechanic, and gave me rides to and from work for the rest of the week. Thursday my car was ready, and the knight gave me a ride to pick it up. The mechanic, a very sweet man who I know worked more hours than he charged me for, asked if I rest my foot on my clutch? My first inclination was to answer no, but as I thought about it I had to sheepishly answer yes. He let me know that was the reason for the freakishly short life of my clutch. I’ve decided to not beat myself up about this, (believe me, the knight has harassed me enough to last a lifetime; I guess a small price to pay for a knight’s services*) after all, I’ve had my car for four years, so really it is only $250 a year, and if you divide that by the number of months in a year its about $20 a month; so I’ve been spending less than a dollar a day for a footrest for my left foot, and really, that is a small price to pay!
*FYI, I’ve adopted the knight as my big brother, which might explain the acceptance of his harassment: a necessary part of a brotherly relationship! Plus it also helps me to overlook the many times he comes to my rescue, because really that’s what family is for, and since all of my family is long-distance, I’m sure they won’t mind him stepping in to bridge the familial gap.
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