In 2010, my beautiful, black Camaro died a tragic death by fire. In case you missed the blog about it (or the radio announcements that day, or the 9 mile traffic jam), you can read the whole story here:
http://calamitykatiebeth.blogspot.com/2013/04/smokin-hot-firefighters-and-cold.html
But in short...it burned down.
Post-fire, the Camaro was replaced by my Mustang convertible.
At first, things were going pretty well for my lil' Mustang and me. Then one morning, after a long, hard rain, I hopped in the 'Stang to go to work and my windshield wipers would not go off. Despite the fact that it was a sunny, clear morning, I drove to work with my windshield wipers going full blast! Ugh. After 24 hours of driving around looking like an idiot, my wipers finally stopped. Relieved, I considered the incident a "fluke." The next week it began raining as I headed home from work. I flipped on my wipers and...nothing. I drove home on the interstate going 25 miles an hour with my hazard lights flashing, hunched over the wheel like a little old lady.
One week in the shop and $2,000 later, the 'Stang was fixed. It turns out the rain had gotten into my dashboard and burned out my electrical system. Poor, but glad to have my car back, I began the 30 minute drive from the dealership to my house. As I was exiting the interstate I sensed movement on the side of the road to my left. As I looked over I made eye contact with a DEER!...about .006 seconds before it pranced headfirst into my driver's side door, and then bounced down the side of my car, crushing in my driver's side door handle, denting my rear tire well, and smashing out my tail light.
With a car directly in front of me, and one directly behind me, it is like the deer CHOOSE me for it's suicide gallop. I'm just guessing it was suicide, I was too traumatized to stop the 'Stang to see if Kamikaze Bambi lived or not. Not only was I traumatized from committing (probable) deer murder, I also had another $1,000 worth of car damage...less than an hour after getting it out of the shop!
After eating Ramen Noodles 3 meals a day for a year to finish paying off all of the car repairs, the 'Stang and I had another sweet few months of respite.
Then, last month, as I was rolling back the convertible top to enjoy an evening drive, I suddenly hear mechanic squealing followed by a ripping sound. Yep, my mechanics broke and in the process ripped 2 holes in the top of my car! I called the Ford dealership to fix it and the told me to bring it in. They charged me $200 just to tell me, "Yep, your roof is broken. But we don't fix convertible roofs. You'll have to take it to a specialty top shop." Uh, so I just paid $200 for you to tell me my roof was broken? Really? That is why I am HERE. Sweet goodness.
One week and $2,500 later I got the 'Stang back with a completely new roof. SURELY things would be fine now. Negative. After today's monsoon I got in my car to grab some dinner before heading back for church. As I turned on my car my windshield wipers kicked on...by themselves. Like a horrible flashback, I drove through West Little Rock in the evening sun with my windshield wipers going full blast and making a horrendous squeaking sound as they dragged across my completely dry windshield. I'd try to occasionally play it cool by squirting washer fluid like I was "cleaning" my windshield, but after about time number 10 of doing that I ran out of washer fluid. Story of my life.
As I sat in the Panera drive through line, I saw people staring at me like, "Aw, that poor girl. She does not even know how to turn her windshield wipers off. Bless her lil' heart." And I'm like, "Helloooooo. I know they are on and I know how to turn them off okay!? It just won't WORK!" Sheesh.
The highlight of the evening came after church. Some guys from church suggested I just pull the windshield wiper fuse out of my fuse box to stop the constant wiping. Sounds so logical! Not being a girly-girl dependent on some guy to save me, I decided to go home and do it myself. "This won't take long. I'll just find the fuse box, get my manual to figure out which fuse, and pull it. It'll take 5 minutes and I'll be back in business!"...20 minutes later I found what I believe (but am not entirely certain) may POSSIBLY be my fuse box. I opened that baby up and held the manual up to it...who draws car manuals?!? Seriously!? If this is my fuse box, it looks nothing like the stinkin' manual.
After 15 minutes of randomly plugging and unplugging things (and praying to God not to get electrocuted), I gave up.
After some internal debate this evening, I've decided to just forget the 'Stang. I think I am just going to park it on my lawn like a decoration and just roller skate to work. "See what a nice car I have? Isn't it pretty? Thanks! Now if you'll excuse me I have to put my knee pads on and roll to my office."
Downside: Possible death.
Upside: Save on gas money.
Downside: Would arrive to work sweaty, out of breath, and most likely bleeding.
Upside: Would get in super great shape.
I can just see myself rolling into the parking lot like, "WHEEEEE! MY BUTT HURTS BUT I'M HEEEEERE!!!"
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