And Then I Flushed Thousands of Dollars Down The Drain...

In November, I wrote about my car and it's woes. I hate my car, not only because it is awful, but also because it regularly costs me thousands of dollars to keep it in such a condition that I can get to work every day.

As of Saturday, I have put about eleven hundred dollars in repairs into this car, not including what the cost the repair will be once the shop looks at it. This only includes the past three months because there have been boatloads of other repairs over the course of last winter, spring, and summer.

I'm not sure if you've ever invested over a grand in the course of three months into something you hate, but it tends to make a person kind of bitter. You know, in case you were wondering.

My financial situation is pathetic at best and atrocious at worst. Considering the math I did earlier this evening, I am beginning to see why I am so sadly, pathetically broke.

As in, I have no cash. As in, my mother had to buy my shampoo and body wash last weekend because I needed to take a shower but I am too poor to buy the products with which to do so.

I'm kinda down in the dumps, you could say.

I thought that, after my last investment of money into this car's transmission, I would be able to drive worry free for at least another six months. I really don't think that six months' worth of functionality is too much to ask of a transmission.

My Saturn Vue had other plans.

The transmission gave out in heavy traffic in the city (I hate heavy traffic and I hate the city, in case you didn't already know this about me).

I can only praise the Lord that my good friend and neighbor was driving at the time (He knows how I feel about traffic and the city. He is specifically aware of how I feel about being in traffic and the city at the same time).

I am now poring over vehicles online and asking myself the heavy questions: Considering the length of my commute every day, should I go with a new car? Should I opt for the super fancy warranty? Should I try my hand at another used car? Would it be insane to invest in a four wheel drive with very, very sexy tires?

I've spent the weekend alternately laughing and crying over the situation. If you could picture two rednecks on the side of the road with an inordinate amount of beer in the back seat hitching a ride from a tow truck driver who goes whaling in his spare time, you might see the humor in the situation as well.

If you could see me driving to the bank to withdraw the two hundred and twenty dollars it cost to tow us back, you might see the tears. Especially because that sum of money had been earmarked to pay back the most recent repair on the vehicle.

I hate cars.

Good-Bye, Stupid Car....

Eleven months ago, I wrote off my Jeep.

Then, I cried.

For days.

Weeks, even!

Four weeks after the accident, I bought a Saturn Vue. I had good reason for this: My anxiety around driving after my accident was out of control, and when I drove a Saturn Vue afterwards, I felt very safe. It handles great in the snow, I love the manual transmission, it doesn't spin and roll around, and I don't have massive panic attacks while driving it.

Seven days after I bought my Saturn Vue, it had to go back to the shop to have all of its bearings replaced.

And thus began a cycle of idiocy that I can't begin to understand. I have replaced door locks and sway bars, more bearings and more door locks, transmission clips and tires. That car has shaken its way to and from work, refused to drive at faster than eighty kilometres an hour, and occasionally refused to function in first or second gear. If it gets very cold, I'm stuck taking off from third every time because the transmission just won't go into first or second.

What a damn good thing that I'm so good with a clutch.

Today I attempted to go to work and my car was having none of that. It hemmed and hawwed over getting out of the driveway and once I made it to the highway, I was running in lower RPMs in second gear than I was in fifth.

I thought to myself, do I want to risk driving this junk bucket all the way to the city?

Cursing, swearing, crying, and in second gear, I pulled a U-turn and headed back home.

I stood in the hallway weeping over my car. I am so sick of this: I am so sick of not knowing if I will make it from A to B, if I will be able to shift gears on my way there, or if I will be able to make a return trip. My car is in the shop at least once a month and now that I have a regular day job, I can't just call and be an hour late while I arrange for my mother to drive me to work.

And about that. About asking one's mother to drive one to work.

I'm twenty six years old. Should my mother really still be driving me to work? Really?

I'm new car shopping tomorrow and I hope to be back in a Chevrolet by the time the week is out.

Boulet Boots

I love boots. I have always loved boots and I suspect I will always love boots. I do not wear fashionable boots or even boots that most people find attractive. Since I was ten, my feet have been clad, year round, in Doc Martens.

Over the years, however, many people have complained about going out with me because it takes me approximately fifty and a half hours to tie up my boots before I walk out the door. As such, last year at tax time, I ran out and bought myself a pair of dress cowboy boots.

My life has not been the same since. I love them. I love the click of them when I walk across a parking lot, I love the pointed toe when I look down and see them. I love a perfectly hemmed pair of jeans sitting around them and I love them with a denim mini-skirt (Which I've only gotten up the nerve to wear once but it was the county fair and I simply had to).

My boots are Frye boots, not Boulet boots. Boulet boots, for those of you not in the know, are the be-all, end-all of boots. I have been chastised by many people for my choice in boots but last year's tax return would not afford me Boulet boots. Sigh. My Frye boots haven't behaved in exactly the fashion I want them to behave in. They are still completely functional but they need to be resoled as the sole of one of them has started to fall apart and come off.

Fast forward to yesterday: I found out the amount of money I am getting is quite substantial. Life-altering, even.

Immediately visions of beautiful Boulet boots started dancing in my head. I was picturing the new saddle I would buy for my horse, the clothing I would purchase as I frequently look like a homeless person when dressed in my own attire.

And then I sat down in front of my computer and realized a few things. Here is a breakdown of my financial situation:

Tax check in the mail = $10 less than what I owe on my vehicle
Amount in savings = $20 less than what I owe on my Visa
Amount of excess in next pay check = amount I owe my parents

And my heart is saying to me BOOTS. YOU NEED BOOTS. GIRL, GET YOURSELF SOME DAMN BOOTS.

But my head. Oh, my stupid head is saying -- in a fashion much less direct than my heart -- that I should pay off all my debts and have a chance to be at zero for a while.

I'm sure that Joomy will step in here and offer some encouragement in making the right decision.

I Will Not Flip Out On Christmas...

I feel like I need to write that out two hundred times and then I will be calm.

Apparently insurance companies are difficult to wrangle with. I have now purchased a new car. It is sitting with my license plates on it at the dealership AS WE SPEAK.

Why not go get your new car, you ask?

Because in order to pay for the car, I must first pay off the Jeep, and in order to do that, I need a check from my insurance company.

The check was supposed to come in on Monday.

Then Tuesday.

Then Wednesday.

Oh, look, it's Thursday!

So, I called my insurance just to ask about my check. And I was totally fine with it not coming in.

Until they told me that from that day forward, not only would they not be allowing me to buy another vehicle, they would no longer be paying for my rental.

Ahem.

I was under the impression that the reason these people have been taking money from my account each month was to pay for contingencies such as traumatic accidents that leave you without wheels.

And now I would have to pay for a rental because they can't get their act together and give me my damn check?

There was some yelling.

And some swearing.

And perhaps some phone-throwing.

I called my insurance broker, that lovely gent that he is, and complained loudly to him. He called me back and said that there was nothing he could do, I would have to give up the rental or pay for it.

I HAVE TO HAVE NO CAR ON CHRISTMAS?!?

So this morning I woke up at work and made a Christmas resolution that I would do no yelling, swearing, or phone-throwing on Christmas. And then I carried on with my morning rituals and drove home in the rental I had accepted that I would be paying for.

And then a Christmas Miracle happened, and the insurance company called, and all of life got better because they are agreeing to pay for my rental for seven more days.

Hallelujah, it's Christmas!