National Lampoon's "Trip to the Store"

When it comes to my rare opportunities for a solo road trip, I have a hard time taking my own advice. After all, I have often been heard to say that the secret of success is Low Expectations... although with my manager, I am always careful to say that the secret of success is managing expectations. See, I changed that one word -- I'm saying essentially the same thing, but now I sound like a Business Sage.

So you'd think I could maintain that cautious optimism (emphasis on the cautious) when it comes to making a break for it -- excuse me, I meant to say "going out alone"-- but you have only to click here and here for examples to the contrary. Regardless, even my trip last week to buy a grill seemed fraught with possibilities.

OK, maybe not like free tickets to the ballgame. But at least hassle-free: zip about 20 minutes down the interstate, grab the grill I'd already found, zip home, Bob's your uncle. What could possibly go wrong?

I don't know about you, but I'm a sucker for a story involving the words "What could go wrong?"

In this case, I think the solo nature of the trip was in part a smokescreen to get me to ignore the fact I'd have to pony up the bucks... but to be honest, the incumbent appliance is in such disrepair that grilling has been akin to cooking with an acetylene torch, so I had already mentally conceded the point.

All was carefree, until halfway into the outbound trip, when I encountered a sign with the Pennsylvania State Motto: "Roadwork ahead" (Memo to the Commonwealth: You might get away with it if you translate it into Latin). In a trice, we were at full stop.

I was approaching, sadly, the granddaddy of all delay-causers, the dreaded "Left 2 Lanes Closed". Now, here's something I've never understood: mathematically speaking, if you go from three lanes to one, shouldn't it take 3 times as long to put the same traffic through 1/3 the original roadway? Why do I end up at complete halt, and three miles from the actual closure? It took me over a half-hour just to get to the construction area!

As a saving grace, it was a pleasant evening; I was able to enjoy the spring weather with windows open... for about 5 minutes, till dusk began to descend. Another math equation: what do you get when you add dusk, spring, a tree-lined highway, and (100*(a warm vehicle+ a driver emitting CO2))? You get an A if you said "a cluster of vehicles filling up with mosquitoes". Actually, I can only speak for myself; I suppose it's possible the others were all listening to a lively symphony on public radio and conducting along vigorously.

Of course, when I finally made it to the Choke Point, I was faced with another mystery of road construction: what are all those people doing, anyway? A road crew makes all those "How many [fill in the blank] does it take to screw in a light bulb?" jokes look like understatement.

At long last, as it were, I arrived at my destination, with my "20-minute trip" having taken just over an hour. Of course, the purchase itself was no speed marvel, since the retail community is getting paid by the hour, but it was routine enough, I suppose. Then I was confronted with another of my negative qualities.

I have this thing about large objects and small spaces, particularly vehicles. I always figure it'll fit "somehow". I had purchased a pre-assembled grill (I don't really want to build anything that essentially produces a controlled explosion) but I really didn't pre-measure it, or my minivan ("featuring 3rd-row seating!").

The good news was that one of the store employees had come out to help; the bad news was that he was expecting me to have a plan. I was kinda hoping he had a plan. And I could tell he was a little contemptuous that I clearly had not thought this through.

No big deal: just take out the third seat. And then stuff the third seat into the second seat. Wait, my daughter's car seat is in the way. No, I can't put it there -- that's where my son's car seat is, from when I folded down the rear seat, earlier. Yes, I would appreciate a hand with this van seat since it weighs more than I do (at least till I started in on the Cheez-Its again).

OK, wait, the grill would fit right in the back if not for the shelf. Got a screwdriver? Sure, I'll wait. Back so... soon!? Let me grab all these little screws & nuts. Now heave! Oops, too tall -- try to lay it down. That crash is just the grill grates "shifting", right? Whew, finally... oh, I guess the propane tank goes up front with me, then.

I suppose it could've been worse; for several hundred bucks more, I could've bought a grill that I would have had to carry the van inside. And... I get home a mere 2 1/4 hours from the time I left. But for a good cause!

Except it's 5 days later and the new grill, and tank, and shelf, are still sitting in the garage. Haven't put them back together yet! Haven't used them yet! Haven't gotten rid of the old one yet! But: at least something's crossed off The List.