Anyway in personal news, a couple weeks ago I had one of the worst nights of my life. I bought tickets for a Marilyn Manson / Rob Zombie Halloween concert. Everybody but my oldest friend bails. Said friend then insists we turn around and go home as we're pulling into the parking lot, when his bowels start acting up on him, as they do basically every time he leaves his house. And the kicker, my car got wrecked.
Not bad. Drivable. But wrecked.
My beautiful goddamn Thunderbird, after all the love and complete lack of respect I've given it, sitting in a parking lot got its trunk lid bashed in with a truck bumper, no evidence no witnesses. I just through all the requisite hoops with the insurance company, which was actually quite painless, and they gave me a boring-ass Mazda sedan as a rental while the car's in the approved shop. I could feel my coolness slipping away just climbing into the thing.
Thanks to the boundless generosity of my mother, who I also owe a lot of respect, I was lucky enough to have full coverage. It takes almost a week for them to give me the assessment. They claim they had to completely disassemble the rear end to find that the trunk lid is toast of course, along with their claim of total rear wall damage, and that they would refuse to do the work without replacing the rear frame because of rust damage. Total estimate $2800. According to the Blue Book, the Bird is only worth $3200, so in Texas they ain't doing no full repair. I opt to keep the car and take a check for $2000.
Saturday, my dad comes down to help me out. First I call the garage, and the claims he has no idea what status its in, but he'll call me back after he goes to look at it. An hour goes by and he won't even answer the phone. We drive down and there's my car in the back lot, still in one piece. The attendant had the biggest "oh shit" look on his face when I asked for it, and why I still don't know because they clearly hadn't done anything but pry the lid open. Probably because he knew I knew I was being scammed, but jokes on them, I'm taking my wreck and going home. We were also lucky enough to bring the rental back ten minutes before close.
The damage turned out to be not nearly as substantial as it seemed, just out a lid. Except then all the rear lights stopped working. One incredibly nervous drive home, and we were off to the junkyard district to find a hood. The first place who claimed to have one took twenty minutes to tell us they really didn't have one, and was run by the real life version of
Watto, as played by Harvey Fierstein. The fifth place that we went to, out of pure desperation, was the real deal of walking out into a junkyard and taking off what you want to buy. Turned out to have a whole graveyard of 90s Thunderbirds, all but the very last two with their trunk lids either smashed or yanked open. Luckily we were able to unbolt it with nary a scratch nor a wasp, and it cost all of $50.
I always said I never wanted to be the guy driving around a reasonable car with one panel a different color from the rest. I knew in my bones that I was going to wind up with a pearly white Thunderbird with an misaligned red trunk bungied in place. And I was absolutely fucking right.
We change it out and the lights still don't work. The swap wound up taking two hours, punctuated with father/son heart to heart shit about cars and responsibilities and women and screw ups. All of this in an apartment parking lot, on a Saturday afternoon, while us talking at the top of our lungs and sitting on the concrete because we'd drank most of a bottle of vodka in the process. Met some neighbors, y'know, usual inner city life. Finished working at sundown, went inside, ate a dinner I don't remember, threw up, went to sleep around eight and woke up at three. Next morning, turned out the lights were fine, just the switch is weird and I forgot all about it under the stress. So dad drove it home and left me his wobbly-ass old F150 to drive while he straightens it out and asks around for a painter.
$170 for the rental, $50 for the trunk, a few hundred likely for the painter. And the concert tickets. Meanwhile, there's a check for two grand with my name on it in the mail. And I still have my car, which is still in fine condition. I'm actually making a significant chunk of money, at the cost of my and my father's pride, health, sanity, and time. As seems to be the usual way of "disasters" in my life, it feels like flying off one cliff after another with total doom waiting on the other side, only for everything to work out fine.
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Topic: [MILK] There were 12 eggs here what did you do with them? (Happy thread?!) (Read 16276367 times)