March 19, 2007
Dear Jeep, I love you. Please hold it together for a few more months. Love, me
I'm going to tell you the end of this story first because I do not want the suspense killing you, seeing as a story with me and a vehicle involved could have any number of outcomes, including tragedy. So in the end of this story, my awesome Dad saved the day and fixed everything even though I believe he did have to break out the GooGone.
(I am bad at reading suspense books because I get so stressed out if I don't know what is about to happen! I'll flip ahead in the story until I know what the outcome is of whatever suspenseful moment we're in, then I can relax enough to go back and read the chapter. I am maybe not very much fun to watch dramatic movies with, just FYI.)
So! Two weeks ago I got off the bus at the Encino Park 'n Ride and there was my Jeep, my hot little red vehicle who loved me enough to come back to me, and he was sitting there in the dark, alone, and waiting for me.
And apparently at some point during the day my Jeep -- my vehicle who has been through so much with me including but not limited to one divorce, four cats being hauled to various medical facilities, moving into three (!) new places and being broken into twice and hijacked once -- my little Jeep got tired of holding the rear-view mirror up, and he sighed and released the mirror into the passenger's seat. I can only imagine he sighed with relief. At least he wasn't being taken on a high-speed chase in Hollywood again. He was just tired, and probably in need of an oil change. Or a new radiator again. Ya'll know.
Sad and slightly out-of-focus face.
Happy face. Also: see my man hands in the reflection! Picture staged for your enjoyment in daylight.
As soon as I could, I made a stop at the local auto parts place and a nice boy named Javier or Robert or Federico helped select the rearview mirror adhesive kit of my dreams and then offered to help me fix it, except he would need to do it the next day after school.
"What school do you go to?" I asked.
"San Fernando High School," he said.
And I remembered that I was not exactly desiring to be on NBC Dateline's "To Catch A Predator" show (again) and I declined. With a smile. And also I had a question for God, which was, "Hi God. Why? WHY? Are you torturing me? Is this the new hell, where every hot and able-to-fix-stuff guy who just lurves me is SIXTEEN FREAKING YEARS OLD? P.S. Sorry about the almost-swear words, God. Please send someone over 21. Thanks."
And while I had every intention of fixing this rearview mirror problem over the next few weeks, the truth is I had not actually been home during daylight hours. I was leaving for work when it was dark and returning in the dark and let's face it. Me + car repairs + permanant adhesive + the DARK = RECIPE FOR DISASTER.
So I was rearview mirrorless for... a few weeks. Which was fine because I commute on the bus and for the small driving I did in the Valley I found having no hindsight to be an excellent advantage in my stress-relief since I could no longer see who was tailgating me and ergo, I felt less stressed out. If a tailgater tailgates yet no one can see him, does he exist? I was very existential.
And as it turns out, I predominantly use my rearview mirror for checking my lipstick.
But then when my parents arrived and I needed to drive all over kingdom come, I sort of needed a rear view for the freeway. And I didn't have a second to spare on figuring out the adhesive kit thing, and my Dad is here! Yay! Because Dads are the best at fixing stuff! So I just needed to get to Orange County and all would be well.
So I did what any normal human being would do.
I duct taped it on.
Notice I even duct-taped the air freshener in place.
But sadly, in what may be my greatest personal failure to date, I am either not redneck enough or not smart enough to successfully duct tape my rear-view mirror on because it sort of dangled and spun around for a while and then when I hit a bump on the freeway it sadly fell off with a pathetic little plop, back into the passenger seat where it laid in its duct-tapey casing until my father resurrected it and restored it again to its place of prominence and glory on my windshield.
And now all is well and I can check my lipstick with frequency and make faces at tailgating freakazoids and sing Wilson-Phillips to my Jeep, my beloved Jeep, "I know that there is pain/ Just hold on for one more day..." Specifically, just hold on to all your much-needed parts. But just in case you need to sigh and release something else, a door handle, windshield wiper blade, brake light ...
... I do have a roll of duct tape in my purse. And I am not afraid to use it!
Posted by laurie at March 19, 2007 8:43 AM