My cars hate me

I don't know why they hate me but they do. And really it's not just my cars it's also other cars around me that hate me. As soon as I get near them, they make me pay. It's really a shame too because I had planned on a really awesome post featuring Max the mutt-iferic puppy. He will always be this mutt-ilicious so that can wait. Right now I must talk about why my cars are making think that I should never drive again.

It all started after a perfectly innocent happy hour with friends a few weeks ago. I was happily driving home in the nearly brand-new Mini and out of nowhere came a ginormous piece of 18-wheeler tire rubber. The car in front of me ran over this huge piece of tire. It came at me fast and hit my car on the windshield on the passenger side. It pretty much scared the crap out of me because it hit my car with a very loud bang. I immediately checked the windshield and miraculously there were no cracks at all. I was joyous.... until.... I looked out the passenger window and where the mirror used to be there were only lovely colorful wires sticking out. WONDERFUL!!

So I take the car straight up to the Mini dealership since it was pretty close by to let them look at it and make an appointment to get it replaced. They tell me it will take a few days to get the parts in so I make an appointment for the next Tuesday right before vacation. I ask if they can get me a loaner and they say they can.

That next Tuesday only a few hours before I am to drop the car off to be fixed the next morning, the service chick calls and asks me about my appointment. She lets me know that they will need to order all of those parts for my mirror. I'm thinking that they really should have had time for that but I decide not to be bitchy about it. I tell her that we are going on vacation and I would just bring it in when I get back. I remind her that I will need a loaner.

After my wonderful and restful vacation, I take my car into the dealership. She happily takes the car and is acting like we are done. I remind her nicely that I asked for a loaner and she gives me this look like she has no memory of this (keep in mind that I've told them twice about this!) She looks through the available cars, tells me that they don't have much, and asks if I can drive a standard. I give her a nice blank stare since I just gave her my car... a standard.

So she sends me off with the loaner which incidentally is the spitting image of my car. I happily left driving my car twin and went to work without any problems the next morning. On the way home that next afternoon, I was gunning it a little to get out into the crazy Houston traffic and I felt a weird pop in the car.

I didn't think much of it right away and took the car to get some overpriced fuel. When I left the gas station the car felt a little weird and sluggish but it still seemed ok. I drive home to pick up the hubby and Max's kennel so that we can pick him up from the vet. As I drive back out of the neighborhood, the car keeps getting worse and worse until it gets to the point that I can accelerate and nothing happens. So I turn around and limp home.... very.... slowly.... to the annoyance of about 10 cars behind me. We make it back and call Mini to come get their stupid loaner.

Mini was only supposed to have my car from Thursday until Saturday morning. On Saturday they call to let me know that they don't have all of the parts. Really? Mrs. Mini Serviceperson, you have only had two weeks to get these freaking parts! Apparently Mrs. Mini Serviceperson hates me too.

So I've come full circle and I'm driving my Miata again. I really don't mind it all that much because I still love that car but it is a little annoying when I need to carry more than one person. On Monday or Tuesday (I am losing track now...) they call to let me know the part is still not in so they keep the car and I continue to drive the trusty Miata. On Thursday (which was this last Thursday by the way) they inform that due to a miscommunication, no one ordered the part. REALLY??? Yep, Mrs. Mini Serviceperson definitely hates me but at least trusty Miata loves me.

Until today! Trusty Miata hates me too. Trusty Miata gets me about halfway home in rush hour Houston traffic when Trusty Miata decides to join the "Cars who hate Carol" club. Did I mention that Trusty Miata decided to die in front of a very impatient angry 18-wheeler? And did I also mention that I had to move in front of a very impatient angry Big-Ole-Pickup redneck driver?? I think Trusty Miata was the ringleader of the club personally.

So my cars all hate me. I don't think I'm gonna drive ever again!