Life likes to request weird sex acts (like enacting foot fetish fantasies with peanut butter and a pumice stone) just when I was expecting a romantic cuddle, especially when it comes to vehicles.
I should have known that this was going to be a recurring issue. Charles and I were married for less than 24 hours when, on our way to our honeymoon, the transfer case on his 4 wheel drive broke. On the frightening and confusing stretch of highway that is otherwise known as the PA turnpike. In the middle of a construction zone. At 4 PM. On a Sunday. Super fun times and not at all a stressful way to start life as a married couple...
Then, about a year and a half later, I get t-boned and total my car. It was the first time I've had the wind knocked out of me AND had my back thrown out at the same time and again, super fun times were had by all involved. A month later? Charles hits a concrete pole and totally dents in the side of his truck. A year later? Driving to grad school in the Jeep Liberty I got (you know, to replace the totaled car...) in a snowstorm and I ditch the fucker.
Really, we aren't as bad of drivers as I am making us out to be.
Things get really exciting now that there are THREE licensed drivers in the house. Elizabeth drives the worst car ever. No seriously, it's a piece of shit. 1990 Geo Prizm. The bumper is zip tied on. Well, mostly. There may also be some drywall screws holding it into place as well. It is fabulous in its awfulness.
The wheel bearing was going out in the car. Like, the wheel had a distinct diagonal tilt. Thank God for a handy hubby, who was fixing it.
He had to take the bearing to work to press it in. Then realized that he needed a seal or some shit. So he drove around to three different auto parts stores. Got the part. Opened the box. It was wrong. The box LIED. He took that back, and, like the two other stores before, was told that they could have it tomorrow. Not gonna mothafucking work, buddy. There is school and work tomorrow. Shits gotta get fixed today! Decides to go to another store...they have it. Hallelujah! The cuddle and romance are coming!
On the way home, he slams on his brakes to avoid a collision with a bale of hay that comes flying off the back of a truck in front of him. Something goes crunch, and it ain't the hay. Not a good sound to hear. Then...trying to turn into the driveway, he does not get very far. Something is not right. No time to figure it out as there is dance and dinner to contend with.
I get home to a flat tire on the Jeep (when he changed the brakes this weekend, he did not screw a bolt down enough and it came loose, putting a small hole in the rim), the Prizm jacked up with the wheel off, and a harried husband who is trying to calculate the odds of rain in case he needs to drive the motorcycle to work tomorrow cause all the other vehicles are broken. Super duper fun times!
I hope I am still respected in the morning. I will never look at peanut butter the same again.