#ContactForm1 { display: none ! important; }

Monday, December 9, 2013

So... that happened.

Crazy, crazy weekend.

First, a little background... my main car is a 2004 minivan with over 165,000 miles on it. It's missing a fog light, the headlights are held on by duct tape, and the speedometer doesn't work when the temperature is under 50F. Sometimes the roof leaks.

It's a much loved, much abused minivan that I have sworn to drive until it literally crumbles to dust under me because it's paid off, gets good gas mileage, and runs fine. The toggle for the automatic window pops off if you're not careful, but the car runs. And I have an app on my phone that doubles as a speedometer when the weather gets cold.

Still, I know my dear, sweet minivan's days are numbered. Car years are like Dog Years, they age quickly.

So it wasn't exactly surprising that a car broke down on Saturday as we ran errands, trying to get the last few things done before the move. It was bitter cold out. We had all four kids with us. So, yes, a car breaking down seems normal. Except it wasn't the decrepit minivan, it was the brand new monstrosity my husband bought back in South Carolina. The hulking gray beast of a vehicle died! It's two years old!

I called friends trying to get a ride home so I could pick up the van. Hubby called tow trucks so he could get his car back to the dealership. That took forty minutes. The tow truck took another ninety minutes to get to us. By then the dealership was closed and we had to leave the Gray Hulk in the parking lot with the keys in the dropbox so someone can look at it Monday morning.

Did I mention the minivan has a cracked windshield? It does. It's scheduled to be replaced Monday afternoon, which means I can't just let hubby take the car to work. No, I have to wake up and drive him in at 0'dark thirty, drive kids to school, get the windshield fixed, get Bug to speech therapy, and then go get hubby... roughly four hours of driving on a day I would normally spend less than thirty minutes on the road.

Theoretically, this is a good thing. The car broke down here where we could get help instead of the wilder lands of the frozen north where we know no one and may not be a dealership who can fix the car while it's under warranty.

Butt the broken car came a few hours after the news that the house we planned on moving into on the 27th wouldn't be available to January 10th. My stress levels have reached an epic level. Seriously, I'm expecting the dungeon boss any minute now.

Two more weeks. Just two more weeks and this whole crazy will be... well... not over, but at least confined to a hotel room for three weeks. That's an improvement? Maybe? Possibly?


February can not come fast enough.

1 comment:

  1. The older cars always manage to make it through things that break the newer cars. Glad you weren't in the middle of nowhere when you broke down.

    Christmas in a hotel room though? I suppose that will be an experience the elder two will remember. At least you won't have to struggle with decorating and making the meal.