Car trouble you say?
Uhg. So ends the glorious experiment of ignoring threatening letters from the DMV.
Fiona's clutch, or something in that general vicinity, is dead. She is unmovable. Luckily she's parked in front of my dad's mechanic who specializes in transmissions. That journey was truly harrowing and I will not try to deal with my dad next time. The deal was that he would follow me down to IB from Point Loma, a roughly 20 minute freeway drive for those of you who don't know, just in case I broke down miserably. But no, he had a dump run to make, so I was on my own. So one failing transmission later I am in one piece, coasting into my parking spot. I rock. Just sayin'.
So, what happens when you get all responsible and pay your re-registration early but fail to read the fine print and get your vehicle smogged is that you get fix-it tickets and scary deadlines. If you then proceed to ignoring those you get nasty letters from the Superior Court and eventually a polite little bill from a collection agency with a large sum due.
For the record, I have never been this irresponsible in my life.
Now, assuming I pay the sum, get the car fixed enough to limp it to a smog station, and get my fix-it tickets signed off before they arrest me I will probably be selling Fiona. My baby. I can barely stand it. I have been driving my dad's white Honda Civic, which has a quarter of the miles on it that Fiona does, way better gas mileage, more cargo space, and no where near enough torque for my speed-addicted soul. But, it's free. It will be my second vehicle for free, and the first one lasted me a good five/six years with pretty minimal maintenance and mishaps (the dead clutch is expected in a car of her age and if it's the first then she's absolutely amazing). This little white car is definitely male, and I'm hovering around a name, but not there yet. He's definitely not my Fiona, my chariot.
Fiona's clutch, or something in that general vicinity, is dead. She is unmovable. Luckily she's parked in front of my dad's mechanic who specializes in transmissions. That journey was truly harrowing and I will not try to deal with my dad next time. The deal was that he would follow me down to IB from Point Loma, a roughly 20 minute freeway drive for those of you who don't know, just in case I broke down miserably. But no, he had a dump run to make, so I was on my own. So one failing transmission later I am in one piece, coasting into my parking spot. I rock. Just sayin'.
So, what happens when you get all responsible and pay your re-registration early but fail to read the fine print and get your vehicle smogged is that you get fix-it tickets and scary deadlines. If you then proceed to ignoring those you get nasty letters from the Superior Court and eventually a polite little bill from a collection agency with a large sum due.
For the record, I have never been this irresponsible in my life.
Now, assuming I pay the sum, get the car fixed enough to limp it to a smog station, and get my fix-it tickets signed off before they arrest me I will probably be selling Fiona. My baby. I can barely stand it. I have been driving my dad's white Honda Civic, which has a quarter of the miles on it that Fiona does, way better gas mileage, more cargo space, and no where near enough torque for my speed-addicted soul. But, it's free. It will be my second vehicle for free, and the first one lasted me a good five/six years with pretty minimal maintenance and mishaps (the dead clutch is expected in a car of her age and if it's the first then she's absolutely amazing). This little white car is definitely male, and I'm hovering around a name, but not there yet. He's definitely not my Fiona, my chariot.