Tales from the Countryside Chapter 3
Well, I guess Mr. Murphy decided enough WASN’T enough, so he sent that bitch Karma over to kill my Dogma. She not only ran over it… she backed up… spun out…squalled the tires, and burned rubber all over it.
Yes, my Dogma is now a grease spot on the Road of Life.
Personally, I think Old Man Murphy is prejudiced against women, or he needs to get laid. (If he’d quit throwing his damned LAWS around, smacking car hoods and the like, maybe he WOULD get laid!)
OK, so here’s chapter three of my “Tales from the Countryside” blog that is fast becoming an Epic of Ridiculous Proportions.
My mother and I had decided to take my car and go shopping, sans hood, of course. We were in Tulsa when Karma decided to catch a ride.
First, something black comes flying up and smacks my side of the windshield. It was so fast, that I would have thought it to be an apparition, had it not been for the resounding “SMACK” before it shot by my widow with meteorific speed. I asked my mother if she saw what is was. She claimed it must have flown up from the road., which I know isn’t possible. I saw where it came from, I just couldn’t identify the part at 80 miles and hour, and daylight becoming dusk. After the hood incident I opted to let it go, so she could keep believing her delusion.
About 15 minutes later, the car decides it wants to start cutting out on me. I mean… bogged down…” Karma get your damned foot off the brake while I’m pushing the gas pedal down” kinda thing. Karma seemed to think it was fun, however, and would simply slam on the brake at random, intermittent periods. I, not realizing it Karma just yet, ran through the gambit of possibilities in my mind. So what do I do? The car had been setting up a while before I got it. Condensation build up caused water in the tank? Fuel filter? Injectors? Catalytic converter? Bad gas? Fuel pump losing pressure? Hmmm….. wtf? Now it’s dark, and thanks to the hood incident, I am running one headlight that only works on high beam, however, I have bought replacements which are in the back seat, so I pull into a station, get gas, injector cleaner, and go to install the headlights. Guess what? Oh yeahhhhhhhh… You know it. The freakin screws weren’t in the headlamps EITHER! Just dumb ass luck and wind sheer holding them in place. Karma must have missed that somehow, or I’m sure she would have kicked them out of their sockets with her spiked stilettos. Then I take a look to see what auto part might be missing. Found it, too. It was the main fuse box cover. Lovely.
So….on the road again. The car is running a lil better and I’m thinking “WHEW!”. That lasted all of three minutes. I think Karma was straddling the motor, kinking the fuel line like you do a water hose when you want to sstop the water without turning it off at the faucet. She made the car gag and lurch so much that a 200 mile trip cost me $50 in gas. She’s such a bitch.
We decide to go on home, and I fight with the car for the next three hours. I have figured out that it is definetly something electrical, because I can shut it off, throw it in neutral, let it reset, re-crank, and it run would smooth for about 10 minutes before acting up again. We stopped for more gas, and something to drink, and that’s when my Dogma decided to get out and chase my car down the road. Karma didn’t like that, so after we had pulled off the interstate onto one of the rural blackened highways headed back to Newalla, she decided to run over my Dogma. We knew when she hit it. Oh yeah. There was no mistaking it. “THWUMP!” “PLUNK< PLUNK< PLUNK< PLUNK< PLUNK”.
Mom is now “over it”. Even SHE is cursing the car. She just knows it’s the tire. I know it ISN’T the tire, because while it sounded like one, there was not so much as a bip, much less a bump. It’s pitch black, however, and I have no flashlight, and can’t see a damn thing. I’m not ABOUT to stick my hand around there to see what it is. Then I remember, the phone I had just gotten earlier that day (in case I had car trouble on the way back to Arkansas…((HAH!!!)) has a itty bitty flashlight on it. What do I see? The FENDER WALL…. Sticking out between my tire and the fender, protruding about a foot and a half. Ok… so now I’M over it!!!! OMG! That was the last damn straw. I look underneath, and the fender wall (screw-less, of course) is wedged up in my strut, and is being eating by the wheel. The strut and wheel had a good bitedown on the thing, because I had to stick on foot up on the tire, grab the fender wall, and pull so hard that byt the time it gave up the grip, I went flying backward to land on the median on the opposite side of the road. OOMPH! I think it took an inch of height of me when my tailbone jammed up into my spine and squished a few discs together.
Anyhow, it only took another hour to make it those last 20 miles home, with each mile bringing the car closer and closer to death and a car crusher. Jesse James seems to have some cool ways with demolition. Think the Monster Garage would be open if I gave them a ring?