AS MYRTLE WALKED OUTSIDE, she saw Miles slumping against his Volvo looking even greener than he had earlier. “Miles! Are you all right?”
“I’m...not so well. And my car won’t run.”
Myrtle said, “Won’t run? The engine won’t turn over, you mean?”
“No, I mean that it won’t drive me anywhere. The transmission has been slipping some lately. I’ve been good about having the transmission fluid serviced, but there still have been issues.”
Myrtle’s forte was not automobiles, and as usual, she tuned out the specifics as soon as Miles launched into them. “So, what’s the bottom line here, Miles? That the car won’t take us home?”
“That’s right. Because the gears won’t shift at all. The transmission is shot. We’ll be walking home.” He gave the car a dirty look. “I knew this was going to happen one da
