So I have a new car...

It's not nearly as cute as the bug. But it's a lot more practical. I finally made a grown up purchase. Whatever. I hate this adult stuff.

Its a black Nissan. And I have been calling it my government official car. Maybe if I put some blue lights on top people wouldn't hit me anymore? That'd be great.

... but really though, every time I get in it I feel like I should have a suit on. And be on my cell phone in pursuit of something dangerous and X Files worthy. Oh man. Can we tell I'm trying to re-watch the ENTIRE SERIES before the movie comes out next month? Pretty sure my roommates hate me.

This is what it looks like:



I chose this picture just because it's in front of the Acura sign and that made me giggle. Because it's not an Acura. It's a Nissan. Get it?!

Finance is almost done. And I'm coming home Wednesday. And I get to see my favorite person in the whole world. :-) Plus a few other people who are pretty cool... I'm gonna go get this homework done so I can spend my night watching some more X Files.

The Damage.

I hate insurance companies. Especially the ones named Allstate. I hate them a lot. And I am not nice to them. Maybe I should be a little nicer. I tried for like, a minute.. But I can't handle being treated like an idiot. I am really not patient enough for that. I understand that it's their job to make it my fault. The trouble with that is that I just don't care... it was her fault, and my car is broken, so fix it. My insurance company rocks and has taken really good care of me, so I guess that's a huge blessing.

Here are some pictures:









The Bug handled the wreck really well... I was pretty impressed. I plowed into this chick at full speed... and while I'm pretty sure lots of stuff was busted up internally, the front end just kinda rolled under her van. And I didn't die.

Yeah. Again.

So today. I babysat this morning. I had a little time before I went to the office, so I stop at the mall. Buy me some jeans and a cute new shirt for my trip this weekend. Feelin' pretty good. I'm rollin' down the road. Chillin'. Doin' the speed limit. Hanging out in the right lane.

Next thing I know I'm inhaling gun powder and my airbags have both deployed. The windshield was sufficiently destroyed. A big black van decided to turn left. I have no idea how she missed a bright blue Bug driving down an open road at noon on a sunny day. It was not an intersection. There was no stop light or stop sign for her to run. She just decided that pulling out of the parking lot into my BRAND NEW CAR was a good plan.

So I hop out. My first thought was, her insurance better get me a rental car real quick like. Because tomorrow is beach day. I definitely didn't think about the fact that someone could have been hurt. Not one of my proudest moments.

However, we all ARE fine, so I'm just gonna be angry. Seriously?! What the heck. I didn't even make it three weeks. My computer was also busted in the accident, as it was hanging out on the passenger seat. There's a line in my computer an inch wide where the screen has been busted. So uh, I'm working with it.

When I finally did decide to check myself out I found only a few scratches and bruises from the airbags, so I know I'm pretty lucky. Thanks to Sarah, my boss, who brought me a Cherry Limeade and waited for me and drove me around. So anyway... another day, another day. Tomorrow morning I get to freak out on allstate until they give me a car to take to the beach.

My car is the girliest thing in the world.

And I love it that way.  Leave it to me to make a BUG even more girly.  You've already seen the outside but I'll post it again.  Sorry, I haven't taken a new pic of the outside. Yet. That'll change this weekend I'm sure.

I even Nashvilled it up with the rhinestones.  Yes, I went there.

And here are the cherries and cute sea animals. PS - that's a dolphin and sea turtle.

And to top it off they gave me a flower vase.  :-)

Reason #732 I Shouldn't Drive...

Before I start this, I need to say, in my own defense, that I haven't hit ANYTHING in 2 1/2 years. I'm just sayin'.

So there was a situation at work, and the short story is that I needed to get a check in the mail... like, yesterday.  After a not-so-nice phone call from the company, which I handled with complete grace, I assure you, I cut the check and leave a message with one of my bosses to please make arrangements with me to get it signed ASAP, so I don't get any more angry phone calls.  

It was decided that I would run the check over to his house to get it signed and the drop it in the mail.  I roll up, as hectic as usual because I had 5 stops to make on my little adventure, and circle the cul-de-sac to his house.  And promptly knock over his mailbox.

Do not ask me how I managed to do this because I don't know.  I walk up to his door, and he goes "Um, did you just knock over my mailbox?"  I was like uh, yeah... about that... he was like "how the hell did you do that?" 

I HAVE NO IDEA.  He laughed at me.  Refused any offer to replace it, telling me that would be silly.  Then wished me a safe drive back to the office....

And no, I didn't hit anything else.

Eulogy

My Toyota is for real on its last legs.  And to be entirely honest, I'm ready for it to die.  It's lived a long, fulfilling life.  257k miles of life, to be specific.  So, in honor of this money-absorbing hunk of metal I call a car, here are a few highlights from its life:

2 weeks after I acquired it: A friend of mine had come from North Carolina to audition for the music program at my school.  He stays with me for the night, and we get up early to get him to his audition to find "snow" on the ground.  There was all of 1/4" - and that's being generous - but unfortunately ice created a fun little slip and slide on the way to the school.  It took on the curb and lost miserably. $1200 later, we're up and running again. I use that term loosely.  Basically, it means that the wheels spin and it stops and goes when I tell it to.

End of last summer: I'm sort of notorious for leaving my lights on.  The Toyota's battery finally

 rebelled and ended its life.  I suppose they can only handle so many jump starts before it's just too much for them to handle anymore.  I made very good use of the AAA that my boss bought for me.

Early Dec.: On my way to a friend's house.  The brake light and battery light come on.  I was fairly sure that batteries were supposed to last more than a few months, and that my brakes were in working order, so I was perplexed. I make a few phone calls.  General assessment? We have no idea, ignore it it's probably nothing.  I turn off the highway.  Toyota starts making horrific clicking sounds.  After a few blocks, it putters and chokes it's way to a halt in a church parking lot. A cute couple with a daughter about my age stop and help me and my smoking, useless vehicle.  

Christmas: Midnight.  It's dark and cold.  I need gas.  I'm somewhere in Western, NC - and that stretch of highway is in desperate need of gas stations.  I finally find one - the only light off this exit.  I pull off and make my way into a parking space.  I'm surrounded by scary mountain people, one of which is the hunched old man taking out the trash.  I try to take my car out of park and it's stuck.  It will not shift.  I call mom and her transmission-specialist boyfriend, who can really do nothing for me. Scary old trash man comes to my aid, and finds a little hidden button called a "shift over-ride button".  I still have to push this button every time I shift my car out of park.

About a week ago:  Toyota starts shuddering horribly. Even more than usual.  Oil light comes on.  I make a note to add more oil asap, but stop at my bank first.  Oil is dripping, and leaving a rainbow-trail across the rainy parking lot.  I freak out, call M and make plans to go car shopping that afternoon, and head over to the gas station to add more oil, so I can make it home.  There is no oil cap on my car.  I apparently left it off when I added oil the day before, and without a cap, the engine had spewed what was left of the oil in it all over the inside of my car.  It still smells like it's burning up every time I drive it.

So Toyota, these are the memories you leave me with.  Several other cars have left their mark in my life - you will not be nearly as missed as Jeep Comanche or Saturn.  Goodbye.  I hope you can find your purpose as a hunk of scrap metal somewhere.

My Field Trip To Lawrenceburg, TN.

So back in January, I was a clown for a kids birthday party an hour and a half southeast of where I live. Basically, Alabama. So, of course, I underestimate the amount of time it will take me to get there.  I'm in a hurry.  I get pulled over, because that's what happens to me.  We're all aware of my luck with cars.

The cop was definitely not forgiving.  He wrote me up for everything he could find - 4 total citations, with a mandatory court date of March 28.  I was pretty bitter about the idea of driving back out to Lawrenceburg again but I wasn't really in a position to negotiate.

So Thursday night I go to prepare for my next adventure to Podunk, Tennessee.  I look at my ticket.  The time at the top says 2:15.  Excited that they gave me a time, I get my paperwork together and go about my business.  Around noon on Friday, I'm walking out the door to my office and look at the ticket again. 2:15 was definitely the citation time.  My court time was at 9am.  I am envisioning a warrant out for my arrest, and call the clerk in a mild panic.

Me: So I'm having a mild panic attack. My court time was 

at 9am and I misread my time on the ticket.

Clerk: Wait, you're the one coming from Nashville, right? (I'd already called for directions)

Me: Yes ma'am, I am.

Clerk:  Well just get on down here, be safe. They'll be in for a while, you'll be okay.

Me: But I'm still in Nashville. I have to drive down there.  There's no warrant out?

Clerk:  You'll be fine. If they call your name and you're not there, they'll come out and I'll tell them you called.

Me: You're sure? I won't be cuffed when I walk in?

Clerk:  No. Just get on down here, you called and let me know, it's okay. 

Me: Okay. I'm on my way.

So on the drive down Rachel calls me, and I'm talking, not entirely sure where I'm going. Next thing I know, I'm like, 15 minutes from the Alabama border.  Deciding to focus on getting there, as I'm already about 4 hours late, I hang up and call the courthouse again.  Apparently Nashville is a foreign land to people in Lawrence County.  No one knew where to tell me to go. So eventually I figure out that I'm 20 miles past my exit, and tune into the Alabama radio stations for the remainder of the drive.  

The closer I get to Lawrence County, the stranger things seem to get. I start seeing an

 abundance of trailers and rusted out, obviously

 immobile cars parked on lawns.  I briefly 

wonder if anyone would notice if I parked my Toyota between them, but realize quickly that would require another means of getting myself back to Nashville.  I did NOT want to be without transportation in this part of the world. ----->

Apparently Lawrence County is Amish country - Tennessee style. (Yes, that's a horse and buggy crossing sign, and that is a meat outlet behind it.) I manage not to kill any horses or people, and keep driving into "town".  There's a Wal-Mart (of course) and about 37 Rik's BBQ gas 

station/restaurants. 

Eventually I make it to the courthouse.  I walk in, now roughly 5 hours late for my appearance, and,  after riding in quite possibly the scariest elevator I've ever encountered, I make it to the

 traffic citation office.  The lady immediately recognizes me as the one that called her a grand

 total of 4 times that day, and she send me back to the judge.  Who is sitting in an office the size

of a closet that she shared with another woman, flipping through folders.  She opens mine up, 

crosses off three out of the 4 violations, and reduces the speeding violation to the minimum.  It took a grand total of 42 seconds, she sends me back out front and I'm done.  Nothing goes on my record, and I've been released from several hundred dollars of fees.  

Sweet.

So I hop back in my car and start to head out again, completely relieved.  This time I spend my drive enjoying the scenery.  Apparently the hot spot was the Kuntry Kitchen, and if I hadn't been alone, I would have insisted on stopping. I made the trek back to Nashville, slightly 

impressed that the Toyota had survived the adventure.

Basically, I should never drive. Period.

One of my finest moments.

So let me preface this by saying that I have been sick for the better part of a week, I am sleep deprived, and stressed out. Not that that excuses this. I just thought I would mention it.

So last night I made the drive from Nashville to Raleigh for the 13725412th time. I rented a car, because as you all know, my vehicle struggles to make it, like, out of the parking space in the morning. So after a slight struggle at the car rental place, I get on the road an hour later than intended. I get a little east of Nashville and stop to gas up.

I open the little superman blue door of the Chevy Cobalt, and my dog springs out from behind my seat and starts running his fool little head off in circles through the gas station parking lot. I am particularly well dressed in my super baggy sweats and a wife beater, and have no choice but to leap out of the car and begin to chase him. Barefoot. After his brush with death, I picked his little butt up and threw him into the back seat, slamming the door quickly. He’s such a jerk.

So after our ridiculous display, I begin the gassing up process. I start it up, and head into the building for some liquid refreshment and a bathroom break. (Yes, I put on my shoes. You’re gross.) In that time span, my mother calls. I am describing the scene I made with my idiot dog, and I hop in the car and pull out of the gas station.

I vaguely recall some people honking… I assumed they were honking at someone else… why would they be honking at ME? So I hop on the interstate and go about my business. I make it roughly 40 miles, before a car pulls up beside me and honks repeatedly and flashes their lights, waving two sets of arms out the window. This time I notice. I see them pointing in the general direction of my gas cap, and was like, oh, I must have left my gas cap off. Let me stop and close it. I make a graceful exit to the side of the highway, and a semi exits the highway along with me. I walk around the side of my car, and there is the nozzle for the gas pump, still attached to five feet of hose and a large metal connecting piece that had been trailing behind me leaving sparks for the past half an hour. I stare in disbelief for a moment while the driver of the rig approached me. He’d been trying to get my attention for the entire time, and was checking to make sure I was okay. I assured him that I was fine, just pretty severely deficient in the brains department. He left.

After the initial “I am the most retarded person in the world, what do I do now?” thoughts, I managed to regain a clear thought process: Call the highway patrol. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Hi. I got gas roughly half an hour ago, and forgot to take the pump out of my car.”
Dispatcher: “Yes, we have had about 29 calls about you.”
Me: “Oh yeah? Well, what do I do?”
Dispatcher: “Pull over and wait for an officer. We’ll send someone to meet you.”
Me: “Okay. Just anywhere?”
Dispatcher: “Yes ma’am. Which exit are you at?”
Me: “Exit 280.”
Dispatcher: “Pull off there and wait.”
Me: “Like, on the off ramp?”
Dispatcher: “Yes ma’am.”
Me: “Really?”
Dispatcher: “Yes ma’am.”
Me: “Fine. Thanks.”

A couple minutes later, a cop pulls up behind me. I open my door. Dog makes a run for it. This time, I catch him mid-jump and toss him up onto my hip, holding him like a small child. Barefoot again. In sweats so large I could fit three of me in them. On the off ramp. At 9pm. Because I stole part of a gas pump. I wait for him to approach me.

Cute cop: “Evenin’”
Me: “Um, hi.”
Cute cop: “So you still got the hose?”
Me: “Yessir, I do.” I pop the trunk, where the hose lay coiled. We stared at it for a minute. I think it’s a safe bet that he’d never driven off with a gas pump attached to his car.
Cute cop: “Well, I reckon they want their nozzle back.”
Me: “Right now?”
Cute cop: “Well yes ma’am. I think that would be the right thing to do.”
Me: “Yessir. I don’t know where I took it from.”
Cute cop: “Do you have a receipt?”
Me: “No sir.” I still had the freakin’ pump attached to my car. I most definitely did not acquire a receipt in that transaction.
Cute cop: “Do you remember the exit?”
Me: “No sir.”
Cute cop: “Town?”
Me: “No sir.”
Cute cop: “Anything?”
Me: “Um well I think it was east of Mt. Juliet. And I smelled BBQ.”
Cute cop: “That’s (so-and-so’s). Watertown, exit 238.”
Me: “Okay. So what happens?”
Cute cop: “Well, I reckon they’ll just be glad that you’re not hurt and they got their pump back. There’s not too much damage to the nozzle. No harm no foul, right?”
Me: (blank stare)
Cute cop: “Well, they’ll be waitin’ for you.”

I returned the nozzle. To the gas station where I’d already run around barefoot in my pajamas after a very fast orange dog then driven off still attached to their gas pump. They didn’t want any money. There was no damage to the rental car. Just my ego.

It's the little things....

So anyone in Nashville knows how ridiculously cold it's been this month. A few nights ago, it was raining, and when I parked for the night I forgot to turn off my wipers. So of course, the next morning, I run out to the car. It's like, -17 or something, and the dew and rain from the night before have given my car a fun little ice coat. So I turn the car on, and in addition to all the fun little sounds my car usually makes when it's cold out, I hear a horrible scrape on my windshield. Basically, my windshield wiper had frozen and busted off and flown off onto the sidewalk. Now I'm reasonably used to things falling off of my car, exploding, snapping, etc, so it didn't really freak me out too much. I just threw it in my passenger seat and went about my business.

Now this weekend, it stayed dry. Yay God. This morning, however, I leave my apartment and see an unnerving amount of gray in the sky. So I go to the Shel service station today between classes to get my wiper fixed. I'd put it off, because if any of you know me at all, you're probably aware of my luck with cars. Pretty much, I break them and it's really expensive. So I had basically convinced myself that I was going to have to track down an entire wiper assembly for my 16 year old monstrosity of a vehicle. But anyway, cute old Shell guy sends me to O'Reilly to buy the part that I managed to break. This is my favorite part of this story. It cost me $1.63.

Yes, one dollar and sixty three cents. When has that ever happened to me? Pretty much NEVER. So yes, this was a great start to my week... life is good.