the wheels on the bus...
So, apparently our truck was so fucked, it was a very lucky thing we got it in when we did...
To clarify, Himself and I have two vehicles. An 04 Chevy truck and a 97 Toyota four door. The truck is Himself's main mode of transportation - which is okay with me, since the man drives like he learned on Grand Theft Auto 4, which, well, he kind of did. It's complicated. Anyway, we noticed over the weekend that the truck was pulling really hard to the right. The tires looked okay, so I assumed it was an alignment problem and got an appointment for Monday. I drive to the mechanic's we had in the town we lived in a few years ago (because honestly? They're awesome and they've always given me really great deals on things). So I pull in, not really thinking I'll be spending more than $150 on an alignment, oil change and a light change for the dash.
$800 dollars later...the mechanic won't even let me drive the truck home until they get the parts for it, which are coming in tomorrow. We hope. The guy on the phone actually said to me, "Well, you could come and get it, but please. Don't. We don't know if the tires will blow out on you while you're on the road. We're kind of surprised it hasn't happened already." Apparently the tires were separating? from the body of the truck, creating some kind of oblong shape in them...that's about all I understood. That, and the subdued panic in the man's tone at the thought of me driving the truck twenty minutes home.
So. Yeah. That was a kick in the teeth I didn't know I needed. But this, and $1100 dentistry bill coming up, are what credit cards were created for, in my world.
*hides eyes* I kind of really want a drink right now. You have no idea.
Now to the more amusing part of the day. Our mechanics are over in the town we used to live in five years ago. That is the same town my parents moved into. My father was at work today, which I didn't mind, so I asked my mother to come get me at the mechanic's so I could go run the errands I needed in town (which is also the county seat. I had government-type things to pay. Good thing I paid them in person, too, since apparently my paperwork was fucked up. The bill I got was $20 more than it came up in the system. Go me. It paid for the fresh fruit I bought, later on. With these bills, I'll need every fucking penny we can save).
Now, my mother has never, in her life, EVER driven on a freeway. Ever. Even when we lived in California. I remember once, when my father was out at sea, I had a thing I had to go to in a town that was twenty minutes away, by freeway, on the weekend. I was too young to drive, and no one we knew in the city was going to it (it was a sports thing), so my mom had to drive me. It took us over an hour to get there, since my mother took the back roads into the next city - the two lane back roads that wound up into the mountains and the boonies. Over. An. Hour. Once I hit sixteen, my mother would have me drive, even at night, on the freeways, when we had to go places. But yeah, my mom? Not fond of driving. Ever.
So, with my father at work, my mom came to pick me up at the mechanics. This area is a lot better for her, driving wise, since it's kind of small-town. She almost had a melt down on Sunday when I asked her to pick me up - she thought I was talking about the place in the town I live in now, which she's never driven to before. Ever. But no, since I was going to the place in the old town, she was fine to pick me up. Sort of. I had to walk her through it, kind of. But anyway.
So, my mom comes to pick me up in their nice Avalon. It's a lovely car, good gas mileage, etc. We tool around town, getting my errands done and stalking the fruit stands in search of fruit I can start freezing. (Peaches, sadly, are not ripe enough at the moment. Well, mostly. We found a few I'm going to experiment on. But the plums looked good, and I found some first batch cherries on sale. Fun stuff). Anyway, when I finally find out the diagnosis of the truck, I'm at my parent's house, eating home made desserts (thank fuck, since I needed it, after learning the bill, JFC). My father, who's at home by that point, promptly freaks the fuck out and demands that I drive his truck until our truck is ready to be picked up.
The four wheel drive, four seater, full length bed, V8, probably close to either three quarter ton to full ton pick up. That I have to crawl into in order to get into the fucking driver's seat. Yeah. That's my ride, people. I don't even know. I really don't. But goddamn does it sound good when I drive it.
So yeah. That was my day. Still in shock about how much this is going to cost. Am not quite thinking about it at the moment. I'll panic later. I can always pay it off in bits and pieces with the credit card. *weeps*
Damn, but do I really want that drink right now.
To clarify, Himself and I have two vehicles. An 04 Chevy truck and a 97 Toyota four door. The truck is Himself's main mode of transportation - which is okay with me, since the man drives like he learned on Grand Theft Auto 4, which, well, he kind of did. It's complicated. Anyway, we noticed over the weekend that the truck was pulling really hard to the right. The tires looked okay, so I assumed it was an alignment problem and got an appointment for Monday. I drive to the mechanic's we had in the town we lived in a few years ago (because honestly? They're awesome and they've always given me really great deals on things). So I pull in, not really thinking I'll be spending more than $150 on an alignment, oil change and a light change for the dash.
$800 dollars later...the mechanic won't even let me drive the truck home until they get the parts for it, which are coming in tomorrow. We hope. The guy on the phone actually said to me, "Well, you could come and get it, but please. Don't. We don't know if the tires will blow out on you while you're on the road. We're kind of surprised it hasn't happened already." Apparently the tires were separating? from the body of the truck, creating some kind of oblong shape in them...that's about all I understood. That, and the subdued panic in the man's tone at the thought of me driving the truck twenty minutes home.
So. Yeah. That was a kick in the teeth I didn't know I needed. But this, and $1100 dentistry bill coming up, are what credit cards were created for, in my world.
*hides eyes* I kind of really want a drink right now. You have no idea.
Now to the more amusing part of the day. Our mechanics are over in the town we used to live in five years ago. That is the same town my parents moved into. My father was at work today, which I didn't mind, so I asked my mother to come get me at the mechanic's so I could go run the errands I needed in town (which is also the county seat. I had government-type things to pay. Good thing I paid them in person, too, since apparently my paperwork was fucked up. The bill I got was $20 more than it came up in the system. Go me. It paid for the fresh fruit I bought, later on. With these bills, I'll need every fucking penny we can save).
Now, my mother has never, in her life, EVER driven on a freeway. Ever. Even when we lived in California. I remember once, when my father was out at sea, I had a thing I had to go to in a town that was twenty minutes away, by freeway, on the weekend. I was too young to drive, and no one we knew in the city was going to it (it was a sports thing), so my mom had to drive me. It took us over an hour to get there, since my mother took the back roads into the next city - the two lane back roads that wound up into the mountains and the boonies. Over. An. Hour. Once I hit sixteen, my mother would have me drive, even at night, on the freeways, when we had to go places. But yeah, my mom? Not fond of driving. Ever.
So, with my father at work, my mom came to pick me up at the mechanics. This area is a lot better for her, driving wise, since it's kind of small-town. She almost had a melt down on Sunday when I asked her to pick me up - she thought I was talking about the place in the town I live in now, which she's never driven to before. Ever. But no, since I was going to the place in the old town, she was fine to pick me up. Sort of. I had to walk her through it, kind of. But anyway.
So, my mom comes to pick me up in their nice Avalon. It's a lovely car, good gas mileage, etc. We tool around town, getting my errands done and stalking the fruit stands in search of fruit I can start freezing. (Peaches, sadly, are not ripe enough at the moment. Well, mostly. We found a few I'm going to experiment on. But the plums looked good, and I found some first batch cherries on sale. Fun stuff). Anyway, when I finally find out the diagnosis of the truck, I'm at my parent's house, eating home made desserts (thank fuck, since I needed it, after learning the bill, JFC). My father, who's at home by that point, promptly freaks the fuck out and demands that I drive his truck until our truck is ready to be picked up.
The four wheel drive, four seater, full length bed, V8, probably close to either three quarter ton to full ton pick up. That I have to crawl into in order to get into the fucking driver's seat. Yeah. That's my ride, people. I don't even know. I really don't. But goddamn does it sound good when I drive it.
So yeah. That was my day. Still in shock about how much this is going to cost. Am not quite thinking about it at the moment. I'll panic later. I can always pay it off in bits and pieces with the credit card. *weeps*
Damn, but do I really want that drink right now.