Thursday morning.

I'm still in Austin, my car being as of yet unrepaired. The crank sensor proved not to be the culprit. They have ordered a fuel pump which was to arrive at the shop this morning. I assume the good people at Lamb's automotive are working on it as we speak.

I find myself somewhat less observant today, somewhat less interested in nature and speargrass and the little animals beside the road, somewhat less wont to make pithy observations about life and the blessings of the unexpected, somewhat less willing to be patient and enjoy taking a moment to smell the sizzling hot, burned flowers that might once have been roses had they not had the misfortune to be growing beside the road in the blistering heat of an Austin summer.

Somewhat less inclined to those things.

Somewhat more inclined to note my newest discovery - that I simply cannot write productively sitting in an auto repair shop or in a hotel room pondering how many times a man can wear the same pair of underwear before breaking into a manic case of the heebie-jeebies.

Somewhat more inclined to consider that we have 14 friends arriving tomorrow for a Franciscan retreat, many of them staying over for Sunday, and I have no sermon prepared. Moreover, the text I had chosen in advance is a particularly hard one. I'll try to do some thinking about that passage today.

Somewhat more inclined to frustration.

I did tell you that while I'm better at this at 46 than at 36, I have quite a ways to go.

The saving grace is the wonderful people at the automotive repair place. Not only have they been gracious in dealing with one of those situations when diagnosing a modern car is difficult, they are not going to charge me for any parts they purchased and put on while trying to fix it, even though they made it clear that the only way to do this was to start replacing things. Given that they have had to tow my vehicle back to their shop twice now when it broke down during their road tests and will not charge me for that either, they will lose money on this transaction. By the time the shop pays for two tows, the sensor, and a day's labor for a mechanic all under their $89 diagnostic charge, they will lose money. And yet they seem sympathetic and have treated me so nicely.

Now I understand why there are no less than 75 letters from customers pasted all over their walls.

When I broke down I did call a friend and ask him where I should take the car. He said, "Take it to Lamb's."

I am still inclined to be thankful for that.

rlp