Yeah, well, I got a call earlyish yesterday from Miss Alabama. Her internet is out, they are coming tomorrow to fix it. She haz no phone book. Her stipend has not been paid yet. Could I please look up some body shops near her so she can take her car to the shop? I say “What?” Say What? Her old Nissan is sick, needs to go into the shop in the hood where they speak NASCAR and it might be a coupla days to fix the muffler/catalytic converter connection that some guys a a large chain store stuck together with duct tape on Sunday and said we can’t charge you, no you can’t tip us, just get it fixed.
And, oh by the way, the CV joints need replacing too which was, in fact, a known problem that had gone dormant until this past weekend. It/she were going 70 down the highway somewhere in the deep south when there was a boom and another sound and then the unmistakable sound of a nonmuffling muffler. But you know mom, the roads are terrible down here, I think I bottomed out. Anyway, nobody here cares if your car sounds like that. There is no car inspection. Say What? Should I call a cab?
Then. After providing back and forth downtown transport for the first of the auto challenged Coppas, Little Caroline of the Incident, who laughed at the Facebook message from my brother (she needed that after suffering the Incident on Friday past, his Incident being caused 30+ years ago by his looking in the rearview mirror to admire his own hair).
Gotta call from Mr. Lady. His car temperature sensor is screaming its Hot in Herre! (Go on, take a Nelly break.) The precious wants to go to the VW spa for a little R&R. Can you pick me up? Insert maniacal laughter here. Whilst there at the VWSpa and waiting for me, he steps it over the the Ford place next door on the MidloMotorMile and attempts to discover the fate of the first auto casualty which is being estimated/repaired there. Who knew Ford fixed Chevy but whatever. May be a total loss there? Not sure yet. We’ll let you know tomorrow.
I am the Lady with the car. Need a ride? But I might be late for Tuesday Night Knitting.
Good thing I bought yarn on Sunday. Tuesday Morning, who knew?