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Posts Tagged ‘cars’

One of my all time favorite blogs is Crazy Aunt Purl. Her new book is in the hands of her editor and all is well in her world; other than her roof has a waterfall coming through it.   I cannot wait to read her new book and, I promise, I will buy my own copy this time and not just borrow my daughter’s. 

Her October 14th post, has a hilarious section about the summer she was smited three times.  She is from bayou country and down there they refer to acts of God as being “smited.”  I am from the midwest where those same “acts of God” are usually lectured as, “God has his reasons.” 

Those reasons were never explained but the inference were that either you had done some awful, evil thing or, even more esoteric, your band director was a jerk and you had to leave band (your chosen vocation) because this would ‘some day in the future’ save you from dying in childbirth. 

Obviously, I never died in childbirth so perhaps that was the reason I had to endure some stuff, but I had to wonder, even as a child, just exactly what evil, thing I,  an eleven/twelve/etc. year old child could have possibly done that brought God’s wrath down on me, repeatedly.

To preface my story, for my non-daily readers (which is everyone since I have been very lax in posting lately), husband is on Social Security Disability, and after twenty years of that, you have very old, junky cars. 

We have been very fortunate in that several times, relatives/friends have given us cars they were done with.  Then, I came into a very small sum of money a year ago and was able to purchase a 2000 Chrysler Voyager.

I absolutely love that car.  It is my favorite ever car and has the best visibility in the world.   It was really nice to have a reliable car, with a muffler, so that I did not have to sneak into places where I had to go to meetings, so I would be heard before I arrived.  Our other car, inherited, had no muffler, a cracked windshield, no heater or air, and a wierd thunk in the transmission since before I inherited it, but it just keeps plugging along.

So Gaffer called the other night and said he was let off work early as the restaurant was not busy enough.  Husband left to pick son up from work, and on our windy, after dusk roads, he stopped at a stop sign, looked, and was 3/4 way through the intersection when he noticed another car’s headlamps were embedded into, well, just about into his head.  Amazingly, he has one tiny injury from the padded arm rest.   The car is not so lucky!

I do have to wonder why no one has ever hit the car with no muffler, cracked windshield, no heater or air and a wierd thunk in the transmission?

Say goodbye to my Chrysler Voyager!

wreck

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I think I presumed too much with yesterday’s post. Like, the fact that not everyone has had the experience of taking three poorly home schooled children into their home and trying to get them up-to-date with the real world.

Now, let me say this before I get home schooler’s hate mail. I have seen parents who did an EXCELLENT job home schooling. It can be the best thing in the world for some kids. I would have probably thrived with it, myself.

However, that is the best of home schooling and what my three guys had was, well, NOT the best of home schooling. It started out fine. I think it is much easier to home school a third grader than it is a thirteen year old. By the end, with ten (at the time they left) children in the home, schooling became a three month out of the year project.

It is not just the home schooling, it is the isolation of the life they lead and when they hit that age, where they should have had a friend nudge them and say, “You stink, go use deodorant.” or even when they should have had a friend to ride their bike round and round the block with, there was no one there.

What they had was work, and chores, and work. That is not to say work is wrong for a kid. Far from it. I think kids need chores and to learn responsibility and to do things for others. BUT, kids also need fun and they need friends. They need to talk to kids their own age without mom listening into every conversation or picking and choosing those friends.

These guys have had a real hard time telling the good guys from the bad guys in town and they have never ridden their bikes around and around the block with their twelve year old friends. But, the youngest guy is putting a lot of miles on driving his car up and down the drive.

I guess it is something he needs to get out of his system. So, we try not to say too much about it but do tell him when to stop.

All three of these boys have a Clinical Psychologist to talk through their problems and when you have been locked in a closet for a month, with a five gallon bucket for a toilet, there is a lot of talking going on there. Hopefully!

And, to further clarify, when you have grown up like that, isolated from a range of other kids your age, except for the occasional other home schoolers, you can be a bit behind in maturity and drive your car up and down the drive instead of driving your bike around the block.

Now, in fairness to him, he is really excited to have a job and now a car he has purchased with his own money. He will be getting his permit soon and he will be in heaven, because, in Brown County, “a man ain’t a man without a truck.”

Go figure!

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I’m sorry, but when your wife tells you that something is wrong with the car, why would you just tell her some lame excuse and wait.  Wait until it is snowing.  Wait until it is a blizzard.  Wait until it is raining.  Wait until it is thirty degrees below and breaks.  When she is in the middle of nowhere.  When she is on a lonely road in the middle of the night.  When she is driving her mother home in a blizzard; and then the car breaks down because you have not listened to your wife and given her the credit of being an intelligent person who has lived on her own for many, many years and knows when the frikkin car has a problem.

Once, in Wyoming, in the middle of a blizzard, after months of me telling him that we needed a new windshield washer motor and him telling me that no, it was not the motor because x, y and z, it left me with no wipers.  It as an intermittent thing.  And, when I did get stranded, with mother, in a blizzard and no wipers, I got home.  I slammed the door and I stated, unequivocably (I use that word a lot lately.) while staring/glaring at him:  “When this blizzard is over, you will go and purchase a new windwhield wiper motor and put it in.  I do not give a flying **** that it isn’t broken. I want it replaced, and if you don’t do it, I will take it in to the …. (Horror ta-da-piano playing here)  “mechanic.” 

The “mechanic” threat did it.  And, he replaced it!  And, It was bad!  The wipers worked perfectly thereafter.

I have already told you the story of our annual Christmas jaunt when instead of leaving, husband was laying under the car in sub-zero weather, repairing something that had been breaking for months.  I now add, to the currently squeak we have, a tire that has been blown up every week. 

Wanna make a bet on who it is that gets stranded in the middle of the night with one of them??

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