This has been the Year of the Car. Mine spent all Spring in and out of the shop -- new tie rods, a CV boot, and too many other things to count. It has to head back in soon for brakes, a serpentine belt, and a suspension system. I'm just happy it's held out this long, but the worst part is, it's clearly contagious.
While I called around to describe the engine symptoms and try to get a verdict, the tow driver picked her up. An always-look-on-the-bright-side-type, she was heartened to discover he had "both Metallica and Five Finger Death Punch in the cab," and she seemed downright elated he was letting her smoke. She thought it was a good sign that he called her "sweet pea," as in "you wait right here sweet pea," while he went to find the guys who were manning the weigh station.
I responded, "I think those might be the exact words of the Mechanic in The Hills Have Eyes."
It wasn't til this weekend that she told me she'd almost threatened to run off with him, after he'd enthusiastically described his considerable assets to her, including, but not limited to, "a paid-for motorcycle, a paid-for boat, and a paid-for 79 Camaro."
I said I was just surprised we're all not dancing at her wedding right now.
"PAID FOR!" was her answer.
"Which is exactly how he'd describe you post-wedding," I said.
"A 79 Camaro that can make it to Florida," she insisted.
I thought he sounded like quite the catch, even before I spent a week spent scouring the craigslist for a replacement car, where I discovered that people actually post ads that read, "transmission out, but OTHERWISE a great car." Um. Define great? Wouldn't that include a working transmission?
Camaro, you say? All the way to Florida? I wonder if he'd take it out in trade.
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