And Then There Were Tears

My JEEP left my property the other day on the back of a flatbed truck.

I have spent the last two days bumming rides off of everyone I know, borrowing vehicles and hoping that I have enough in my bank account to fill them up upon return.

And I have to say that as I was walking home yesterday, pondering the amount I now spend on car payments in a month, that this situation really, really sucks. My trusty Cavalier never did this to me, not once.

And so today at five o'clock I called the garage, thinking that they would say "Yep, this was just your JEEP's aversive reaction to having had it's oil changed at Canadian tire. All we had to do was give it some new oil and top up the windshield washer fluid, and you're good to go".

And no, they didn't say that, nor did they let me in on how much this shin-dig will be costing me because they haven't even looked at the vehicle yet.

Oh, yes. You read that right. I'm looking at driving to work tomorrow in a truck that you can't rest your feet on the floor of because if you do that? Your feet will fall through the floor. Because that much of the floor is missing. So I'm looking at driving that beast to work and these people haven't even LOOKED at my vehicle? THEY DIDN'T EVEN LOOK AT IT?!?!?

If I could type in really, really shrill, high pitched, shreiky tones right now?

Your monitor would crack. When I got that nifty little tidbit of information I was driving with the kids from work and I snapped my phone shut and screamed at it with such force that none of them made a peep for the next fifteen minutes.

I'm going to bed and if my car is not fixed by five tomorrow, I assure you that hives will ensue.