Not that I – through my extensive observational research into the matter – find any significant reason to celebrate Pride, but I will chalk yesterday’s accomplishments up to just that.

For the chuckles.

And the rare opportunity to claim a butch bone in my body. Don’t get it twisted, Diezel…keep your thoughts G-rated adjacent.

You see, Angela has been giving me a “driver’s headlight malfunction” warning for months now. Actually, since my front tires crossed from my mechanic’s driveway into the street from having my passenger side headlight replaced. Having looked at it upon arriving home, I saw that both bulbs worked just fine, so…I proChristinated it.

Until, that is, a passenger got in my car and said, “You know your headlight is out, right?” But, since it was daytime, I assumed that indicated it was my running light, not my headlight and shrugged it off. Later that night, I checked my actual headlight again and all was well.

But it was a little hard to see, so I had a niggling concern. Then again, there’s an abundance of trees to obscure streetlights here in town and on top of that, plenty of cloud cover to block out any moonlight…so maybe it was less my headlight and more situational shituations.

I’m no fool, though. Well, no run of the mill fool, like certain <cough, cough> Trumptard-like <cough> people.

After gathering a quarter’s worth of strictly non-scientific data on the topic, I decided to replace my driver’s side headlight. Also, I kept seeing this reflected back in the bumper of cars ahead of me…

Eventually, I decided it was unlikely that this phenomenon was strictly coincidence based on car positions, rough road, etc. So yesterday, I wandered into my local auto parts <shudder> store. I’d looked up the part I needed online and they allegedly had it in stock. Further, I had watched a couple How To videos on the YouTube – the first was an overly complex passenger side replacement video that involved removing a windshield wiper fluid reservoir, and having never popped my hood myself, I wasn’t doing that! But the second video made the driver’s side replacement look ridiculously easy. So I stopped in and picked up the replacement bulb. There were three options because, I’m assuming, fuck everything and everyone. But after talking to the local associate, I felt like I understood why there were three options. Still, me being a decidedly milquetoast ninny when it comes to mechanical shiz, I bought the most expensive option…just to be safe.

Then I changed it in the parking lot, just in case my own mechanical ineptitude required me to either go into full Karen mode to offset my incompetence or just return the bulb when it proved the slightest bit different than the videos on the YouTubes.

I’d like to say everything proceeded apace. Alas…

I’ll be convalescing in the desert. Or the Gay Kulture Desert commonly referred to as “Portland”, at any rate. I’m saving the actual desert for my imminent betting-pool-defying Betty Ford stint.

So for $28, a little gumption and a scratch, I fixed a problem that previously cost me $70 to fix. That’s a good way to start Pride month: defying stereotypes and all.

Mind you, while driving last night, I realized the importance of proper headlight alignment. Every time I caught a reflection or my headlights tracked across an inanimate object, I go strong vibes, reminiscent of this meme…

Plus, my dashboard idiot light didn’t clear automatically, so I feel like there’s a “Hey, can you check…?” moment coming with my mechanic on my next visit to the garage that will somehow add $500 to the oil change I’m having done when he realizes I attempted to operate equipment I was not checked out on. <sigh>

But I tried! And as my fake southern grandmother always said, “Nothing beats a fail but a try”!