“uh , where’s the radiator cap?” my husband’s irritated eyes glared at me.
I followed him to the car. “Look you have been driving the car without a radiator cap.”
Ugh, I was dumbstruck and felt stupid. I normally let the service guys over at Shell Station check my radiator and the usual engine fluids. I hate soiling my hands with black soot or yet breaking a nail whenever I have to check under the car hood. The guy must have forgotten to put it back or just placed it loosely on the radiator. Maybe he was multi-tasking and had totally forgotten he was checking my car. It pays to carefully watch these guys as they fiddle with your car parts.
Now how was my husband going to Baguio without the cap? It was 7:00 on a sunday morning.
A quick look at my gas receipt showed that the last time I had loaded gas was on September 13. Imagine for 11 days, I was driving to and fro Quezon City without a radiator cap?
By this time, my husband was livid with rage. I went about ignoring his dark mood knowing it was completely my fault.
Where in the world will I get a radiator cap at this time of the morning? He yelled.
What can I say? In my mind “I don’t know. How should I know?” I know better than to be a smart ass in time like this.
My husband left in a huff. Thirty minutes later, I heard him arrive but still I avoided him .
He was in a better mood when I showed up in the garage a few minutes later. What do you know? He found a surplus radiator cap in Evangelista St.
A car junk shop saved the day.
