Its been one of those weeks. You know, thooooose weeks. In my last post, I lamented about the struggles of the single life, along with the anxiety that goes along with unintentionally purchasing Satan's retired car. He was smart to trade that sucker in. I was a sucker enough to buy it after he had had his way with it. After getting home on Friday evening, I was pretty certain that things had to look up the following day. I mean, if for no other reason than the fact that it was Saturday. .......Right?
After safely arriving at the garage post getting pulled over on the way, I was sure to mark very specifically on the little night owl envelope containing my key that was dropped through the mail slot that I simply must have my car returned to me as early in the day as possible. I woke up Saturday morning with a slump in my heart and sped out the door as swiftly as could be, just to get out. I entertained myself a good chunk of the morning with a book and an iced coffee. Then the walk back home. Then an entire movie. It was now 3PM. And Bethany was not happy. I rather irritatingly phoned Midas to find out what the hold up was. And would you know... "oh, its done. We just hadn't had the chance to call you yet." Awesome. Thanks for that.
20 minutes later found me in the lobby of Midas, signing my soul away on the dotted line of the credit card receipt. My spirits were still pretty low and the price tag of the fixes certainly didn't help. I moseyed out to the Crapwagon, put the key in the ignition, turned it... Yes, the car did start just fine. What was not fine, however, was the indicator light on my dash that said the door was open. Which, by the way, it was not. So, out I went to close all the doors just in case. Key in ignition, turn.... Same thing. "You have GOT to be freaking KIDDING me," I thought to myself. Or perhaps I said it out loud. Who knows. Anyhoo, back out of the car, furiously slammed all the doors again. Back in the car. Key in the ignition, turn.... "Seriously?!?! No... SERIOUSLY?!?!" I'm sure that there were some other choice words in there as well, as I got back out of the car (again), did the "I'm going to kill someone" dance, yelled to my friend Juli (who had very graciously helped tote me back and forth the garage several times that week), and stormed (yes, stormed) back into Midas.
Apparently the tech has noticed the light and they just "forgot" to tell me about it. What? Like I wouldn't notice? Seriously. "Well, you'll just have to bring it back in again next week." Something tells me that if looks could kill, the poor man would have dropped over dead instantaneously. Bless his heart.
After storming back out to the car, Juli and I headed in the direction of the Promenade Shops. I called my mother to vent my frustrations while driving along, minding my own business. Suddenly... "No," I thought to myself. "It couldn't be. It just couldn't be!!" Flashing red and blue lights. Again. "Sweet Jesus, save me!!" I'm pretty sure I said that one out loud.
I love when cops ask if you know why they pulled you over. I mean, c'mon. Really? Naturally, I said "no", just in case it wasn't for my car registration, even though I was pretty sure it was. Ah, yes. My registration had been expired for 2 weeks, and not a single cop had paid any attention to it. Now, twice in less than 18 hours. Naturally, I didn't have the card that the nice officer had given me a mere 16 hours prior, but thankfully, this Mr. Policeman decided to trust me on the fact that I was taking care of the situation. Granted, it might have had something to do with the glistening tear tracks that I'm sure he could see on my face. It was not a pretty sight.
So, the past week has been filled with lessons on patience, thankfulness, and self-control in not physically harming people. My car has been back in the shop since Monday night, and I found out this afternoon that it will not be ready until tomorrow. Apparently, the part didn't come. Yeah, okay. Or maybe you forgot to order it and just don't want to admit negligence. Whatever. I do have to be thankful for kind friends who have close jobs and therefore available cars for me to use. Otherwise, this all would be so much worse.
My advice to you all: be wary of cops. Make sure that your current address is updated with PennDOT, not just on your license, but your registration as well. Always remember that Volkswagons equal the Devil (check in the thesaurus. Its listed right there as a synonym.)
And also, God bless us. Every one.
1 comments:
Our experience with Midas has not been good either. They are called the muffler people for a reason. Apparently, if they work on any other part of your car, they triple their fees, that is if they can actually figure what is wrong with the car. My advice, a local garage, or even the VW dealer!
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