Car Trouble

I haven’t had the best luck with cars.

Last April, it was my second week on the job when I found my Cadillac Deville- a toss up between airport transit and a ride from the hood- keyed up on the drivers side of the car. Annoyed at best, but too fresh an employee to make myself known as the girl complaining about something so superficial, I kept quiet.

But two weeks later, I came out to find that the other side had been keyed. Perhaps I was being mistaken for a local drug dealer? I couldn’t blame them.

This time I decided to notify someone and was magically granted a key fob, promising me entrance into secured parking out back where no one carried their keys like a dagger. Mainly because all of us who park there work there.

A few months later, I got a new car. My first ever ‘new car.’ Protected in all of its glory by the secured parking out back. Two weeks (which has come to be known as an unlucky timeline for me) was all it took. I walked out to hop in my car with less than 150 miles on it to find that someone had apparently taken what looked like a rake to the back lefthand corner. The paint was scathed down, showing the metal in 3 claw-like hooks. I paid to fix it, hoping it wouldn’t turn to rust.

And then about one month ago, this happened.

Dang it. The very security fence purposed to protect me turned on me. Actually, it spanked me. And perhaps ironically, I had decided to park in the exact spot to avoid getting hit from TWO sides. And yet, this was the only spot in the lot that would have taken the fall.

And it led to my first-ever trash bag/duct tape exercise. Driving down the freeway, I couldn’t even hear myself think. Luckily for me, building insurance had my back on this one.

But as fate would have it, I received a call from Wells Fargo, asking if I had just spent $1,500 in Beverly Hills. Of course I would have rather been cruising Rodeo drive than trash-bagging it around Fort Worth, but I wasn’t. They shut down my card. Then my husband left town. Then I had to explain to the car shop that I really was good for the money, but had no credit and no debit card. And, no husband to cover for me.

The impossible lesson is that you should never drive your car to work.

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