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Friday the 13th struck around 6:30pm on Friday evening.

While driving home, the ABS and BRAKE lights began glowing bright red on my dash board. The speedometer quit reading below 30mph. When slowing, the engine silently stalled (and I lost power steering as a result).

I drove home very very cautsiously... slowing down extra early for redlights in case I lost my brakes (since the ABS and BRAKE lights were on).

And I tried to take turns without slowing down because losing power steering mid-curve on a two-lane canyon road is a very very bad thing.

I got home safely.

For a number of reason, I didn't want to take my truck into a repair shop. The two major reasons:

#1. I do not have bunches of dollars to throw out for repairs at the moment.
#2. Repair shops see a girl and think they can walk all over her.

So, this is what a self-sufficient girl from South Georgia does.

I got online. Found a website called DodgeDakotas.com. Researched my truck's symptoms. Diagnosed a problem.

Turns out I had a bad rear wheel speed sensor... a very common problem in Dakotas of my year.

I bought the part from the Dodge dealership ($35), bought two wrenches in the necessary sizes (13mm and 15mm), broke out my Craftsman knee pad and my tire blocks, and proceeded to fix my own truck.

After removing my spare tire that is stored beneath the truck, I crawled underneath. I sat Indian-style at the rear axle (about mid-bed), fully beneath my truck. What a weird sensation to have the gas tank on your left, the exhaust on your right, the axle in front of you, and the bed of your truck overhead. Smelled a lot like my Dad's barn where the lawn mower is kept.

People drove by, walked by, etc... no one knew I was underneath my truck... fully hidden. I had flashbacks to when I was a kid hiding in the clothing rack at Gayfers(not sure that store even exists anymore).

Anyway, so there I was beneath my truck. With a wrench in one hand and a cell phone in the other. I called my Dad and he talked me through the change.

What should have been a fifteen-minute process took about an hour (I just didn't have the strength to pull the old sensor out and then put the new sensor in). But I finally got it after a lot of pulling and hammering and twisting. And extra strength from a pair of pliers.

I came out with grease up to elbows (literally), black marks on my face from trying to peer over the axle, beat up fingernails, an aching back from sitting hunched over for an hour. I tell you, I have a new respect for mechanics (namely my Dad - not the thieving ones). I understand the hurt in his fingertips and the sore muscles.

The repair shop probably would have kept me there an hour just so they could get a full hour of labor in on my bill. Lord only knows how much money I saved on labor costs.

Plus - I get the immense pleasure in saying - I fixed it myself. And I could do it again if need be.

Truck runs great now. No more ABS light. No more BRAKE light. Speedometer works normally. No slow-speed stalling.

I'm dang proud, if I do say so myself.

Dad says I truly am I Dodge girl. I think that's not such a bad way to be referenced. I quite like it actually.

And one day, when I get bigger tires and a lift kit, changing the rear wheel speed sensor won't be so difficult. In the meantime, I did it. I fixed my truck.

I fixed my truck.

Heck yeah.

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Spa Day

Today, I went to the spa.

You're thinking, "Oh, what a nice, fun, relaxing day. A day at the spa."

Right?

Wrong.

This was my first time visiting a Korean spa. Yeah, so... Korean nail salons are great, right? Well, perhaps I will stick to Korean nail salons and just never ever, not-in-a-million-years-if-my-life-depended-on-it, ever return to a Korean spa.

For those of you who have never experienced a Korean spa, let me just enlighten you a bit (based on my own personal experiences today... with the word experiences being an alternatively pretty term).

The morning began when they handed me a white cotten robe and two towels and pointed (as the language barrier was high)to a locker room. The plastic key around my wrist told me I should place my belongings in locker #25.

When I enter the locker room foyier, I am greeted by a small Korean lady wearing a black lace bra and panties. "Odd," I thought. "I guess they didn't give her a robe like they gave me."

Then, when I leave the foyier and turn the corner to the locker room, my vision is bombarded by the fully naked bodies of about 40 Korean women. Holy crap. I was definitely not expecting that. I looked at the floor, looked at the lockers, looked at the wall (mistake there - the walls were covered with mirrors). I mean geez, where is the modesty? Did the front desk see a white woman and hand me a robe and conveniently forget to give one to the Korean women?

Luckily, locker #25 was in the far back corner. I undressed in private without being forced to see boobs and butts. Of course, I left on undies. I was at the spa for a massage and scrub, not some sort of weird naked-locker-room dance.

After about twenty minutes of looking for someone wearing clothes, I found a lady who spoke enough English to tell me that prior to my therapist seeing me, I should enter the "sauna" and take a shower then soak in the hot tub. She explained that the skin would need to be soft for the scrub.

Okay. Fine.

I entered the "sauna."

Oh. My. Gosh.

I thought the locker room was a sight, but the "sauna" was practically bad porn.

The sauna was one big room with open shower faucets in the wall (no stalls), a dry sauna, a wet sauna, a hot tub, a cold tub, and a hot baby oil tub. Off to the left was a divided area with about 15 massage tables... where women were getting treatments.

There were naked Korean women ranging in age from 20 to 80 all hanging out fully nude, showering together (and helping one another reach areas) fully nude, watching tv together in the dry sauna as they lounge fully nude, chatting in the hot tub as they sit together fully nude, and getting massages on the tables together... you guessed it... fully nude.

We're not talking topless here, people. We are talking... fully nude.

I see the sight and immediately turn to my one English-speaking find and ask, "I have to take my underwear off?"

Oh God.

We'll skip the horribles and I'll just tell you that I decided to soften my skin for the scrub by sitting in the baby oil hot tub because it is a dark black water and hides things well.

After about 15 minutes, a lady in black lacy bra and panties came asking for #25. She lead me over to the area of the room filled with nude women laid out on massage tables and, in broken English, instructed me to lie down face up. Immediately, she began removing my towel.

That was just weird beyond words.

She proceeded to administer the body scrub.

Skip a bunch of weirdness.

Then the massage. The lady, still in her bra and panties, proceeds to straddle me as I am laying face down. She massages my back with such extensive pressure that I could not breathe! I literally felt my breast bone pressing against my lungs. I must have looked like a flattened out pancake on the table with this half-naked woman on top of me!

Frightful.

And then, with all the weirdness (not to mention the language barrier), I failed to mention to the lady that I have this major issue with my back bone being touched. I can't explain it... there's no logic to it... but I just absolutely hate with a passion for my spinal cord (or back bone) to be touched. So, of course, the lady is continuously touching my back bone. Now, touching it gives me the heebie jeebies. But actually putting pressure on it makes me want to run from the room. Or at the very least turn my naked body over and knock the lady to the floor. Now, she doesn't know this and I didn't tell her, so I can't take too much action. And even if I did tell her, she'd likely nod and smile and pretend to know what I said and keep on touching my back bone anyway.

After nearly an hour of sheer torture, she tells me to go take a shower and come back.

Oh geez.

So, I walk over to the wall of shower faucets and choose one in the corner. I am rinsing the muddy substance off my body when I suddenly feel hands on my back. The lady in her bra and panties is behind me helping me to bathe off.

Now come on.

It may have been my first time at a Korean spa, but it certainly was NOT my first time showering and I needed absolutely no assistance. Especially not while I am fully naked and my helper is half naked.

No thanks.

I kindly tell her that I've got it handled.

As suspected, she nods, smiles, pretends to understand what I've said and continues to help take the mud off my back.

So, as if she were a pesky little dog, I shoo'd her away.

Two hours with this lady, a half hour in the dark hot tub, fifteen minutes in the naked-land locker room and I was finally putting underwear back on.

Praise the Lord.

I ended my time at the spa by asking for a manicure and pedicure - with my jeans and sweatshirt ON. That way, I could leave the spa with at least one good experience.

I must say that I do have an excellent pedicure - orangish toenails with lovely sparkly flowers and rhinestones on my big toe nails.

Yep, definitely going to stick to Korean nail salons and steer clear of Korean spas.

Check out my toes, dude:

New computer! New computer!

So, my ol' Compaq died. Sad day. But now... I got a Dell, dude.

I am trying to recover files and set up completely. Expect a new journal post in a day or two.

It's a weird thing to live without a computer for a while. Glad to be reconnected.

D