One day is fine, the next is black.

March 2, 2011 § Leave a comment

If you’ve been around long enough, you probably know about Marlene.  Well, truth be told, you pronounce her name Mar-laine.  And, if you really really love her, you call her Mar-laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine.  The more emphasis you put on making that second syllable as complicated & Southern as possible, the more you really love her.
You haven’t heard of nor met Marlene, you say?

Marlene, before Bambi got her.


Welp, now you have.  Ta derrrrr.

Just about a year ago, my gorgeous fellow-Jesus-lovin’-&-whiskey-drinkin’ friend Connie learned that I had been without a car for over 4 years.  Yeah, you read that right.  In late 2005, I was faced with a choice: Continue my education and sell my previous car OR keep it and drop out of school to keep paying for it.
So, I sold her.

And thus began four years of trying to get rides to just about anywhere and my love/hate relationship with the bus.  That relationship is a whole ‘nother blog post.  Let me just say there are men of a ….hrmmm…certain racial demographic that really really like my body type.
With headphones, I walk around in complete and total ignorant bliss and it’s not all that bad.

Receiving Marlene, after FOUR. YEARS. of that was just this absolutely incredible blessing.  She can hold at least 2 dead bodies in the trunk, groceries in the backseat, and gets a solid 27 miles to the gallon.  She has escorted an energetic 7 year old to and from school and helped me take all kinds of things (including Brodie) to Wake Forest.  As she was my beautiful gift, I feel compelled to use her as a gift to others.  Even though funds may be tight (ahem, I am a college student, y’all) I always seem to have gas and fresh fluids in her.

Y’all, fo real though, I just don’t think I’m meant to own and operate a motor vehicle.
First, I got sideswiped while she was parked downtown.  Then, I hit a deer.  In the SAME SPOT.  Exactly.  You can’t make crap like that up.
(See previous note about my life being random)
Then, she got a boot for stupid parking tickets.
340 bucks later, I had her back.
Just before Christmas, as I was driving down one of the major thoroughfares en route to my Momma’s, the front passenger’s window just SHATTERED into 7,456 tiny little pieces.  We have no idea why it happened, but it did. I pulled over at a gas station and just downright gawked at that window for a good 7 or 8 minutes.  I had no bloody idea what the eff to do (Geico did, though).
Let’s not even talk  about the blown right tire that resulted in four NEW tires (& the tow), the dead alternator/battery (& the tow x2), and the most recent overheating with the previously mentioned 7 year old in the car (wait for it, wait for it….& the tow).

GEICO has screwed up my policy gotta be 6 times…no wait, 7…I think.  And each time I fix it, that’s a 45 minute conversation.
Every time there’s a mishap, another 45 minute conversation.
Are you exhausted yet?  ‘Cause I sure as heck am.

Because Jesus is hilarious, I had fixed my policy and returned Emergency Roadside Service to it this past Monday morning just before lunch.
At 430pm, I was on the side of US 1, overheated.  And, we’re fairly certain, with a blown gasket.

So, now, she’s parked.  In the street where, God-willing, another car (or meteor or carrier pigeon or randomly escaping shoe) won’t hit her.

I am stuck with what to do.  Financially, I’m tapped out.  I love Marlene, but a blown gasket has the possibility of running upwards of a thousand dollars.  Not to mention the headlight and front fender she still needs to pass inspection.
For now, I’m back on the bus. (Oh, don’t you worry.  With headphones!)

Now taking suggestions, comments, ideas, and replacement vehicles.
(Also, chauffeurs, rooms downtown, and plane tickets to go live in Europe and drive a moped.)

This is basically how I feel.  And who doesn’t love The Clash?


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