Friday, January 7, 2011

I Just Used FUBAR in a Post

The Blazer fiasco was a great way to kick off 2011. No full calender year can be perfect, it's just as well that we get the crappy parts out of the way early. With the Blazer's required documents turned into the police station, I avoided a $140 fine. So really, it wasn't that bad. Just a ton of embarrassment and a little hassle, nothing worth crying over.

It's the Kia that makes me want to cry. The Kia, so dependable, good gas mileage and a radio that works. It has never given me a problem before, never left me on the side of the road or forced me into a billboard. When the battery drained, I didn't think anything of it. A quick jump would have us back in business, an easy fix.

Jeffrey jumped the Kia the night of the Blazer incident. He had a hard time getting the hood open, but whatever, right? The battery would not hold a charge, so a new one was in our immediate future. Not an issue, batteries are cheap, easy to change, not an issue. However, the broken hood cable has proved to be a massive issue. I'm so angry. I went down to that stupid car last night, with a screwdriver and a pair of pliers, determined to get that hood open at any cost. I ripped the cable out of the pull and yanked until my arms were tired. Nothing. I stuck my hand through the grill, bruising my knuckles, and pushed the hood release farther than the bones in my hand would allow. Nothing. I kicked it, twice, not expecting much. I did feel a little better, but the hood was still firmly closed. I stood there and stared that Kia down while snowflakes whirled around me. And then, I just couldn't look at it anymore. Who would have thought one tiny cable could render such a complex piece of machinery absolutely useless. It's nothing but a toy car, too big to even play with, if you can't get the fucking hood open. I'm disgusted.

Driving THE BLAZER, with it's expired registration sticker and FUBAR radio might make me cry. If I get pulled over on my way to work tonight, I'm going to be prepared. License, temporary registration and an insurance card, safely tucked inside my bra.

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