First, let me start by saying that this could have been a potentially great weekend. For you see, Saturday, we decided that we would go the Inman park festival. It sounds all nice and fun, cause, hey, we did go there last year, but for some reason, I knew that the day would not turn out as planned. And boy was I right. I went and picked up my friend Daphne, and upon arrival at her house, I started to smell antifreeze. I honestly thought nothing of it, because sometimes things like that are around, not necessarily your car, but around, you know? So we went on our merry way to the liquor store to pick up some festival essentials. Upon procurement of said essentials, we started driving down the road, when I noticed the heat gauge was almost to the top. So, learning my lesson from the last time this happened to me (which was with my last car, and I kept driving it, thinking it was something with the oil, and that getting an oil change would make things all better; but as we all know that was a $2500 mistake… but anyways), I jerked the car quickly over into a parking lot, and turned the car off. Daphne hightailed it to Kroger, because all I know to do is put more fluid in there, so that is what we did. As the fluid goes in, we notice that it is going straight through to the ground, so basically, I have a busted water pump. Nice. But…
luckily, I have roadside assistance on my mobile phone!!! (trumpets sound!) Score one at least, right!? (seriously, everyone should have it, it saved me $100 and the headache of having to look up a company to tow the car). And now, that the tow truck is on the way, Daphne heads off to the festival, where I plan to meet her once this whole debacle is over. Which means, you guessed it… I had to ride with the tow truck guy. Sure he was nice enough, but his truck was dirty (yes, it is a tow truck, but I can’t help I am a little dainty), and he sure loved his hip hop, you know, dirty style. Half way through the six mile drive over to the car shop, he looks over and me and says, “I hope this music doesn’t offend you”, as “Show her your dick” comes blaring out of the speakers. “No, it is fine”, I reply, because really, what could I say at this point? But alas, our journey was almost over, and we talked a few more minutes about how he couldn’t wait to be off to drink his two beers that he had let “marinate” since purchasing them the prior evening. Finally, we made it, I hoped on Marta (It’s Smarta!), and made my way to the festival. I must say that well-deserved drunkenness followed. So much for a Saturday, that Sunday was pretty tame (considering I have no car). So, what a weekend, eh? Hopefully, it will be one weekend that doesn’t repeat itself any time soon.
Oh, and I just found out… the water pump will cost $450 to fix. That really is the rotten cherry on this really fattening piece of cake. Oh well, as they say, it could have been worse right? HA!