| Dear Solitary Reader: Well it’s a whole new month… check that its a whole new year since last I posted (entirely coincidental with FGM’s return to posting – you stole my thunder brother – damn you and your 4.5 hr head start!). |
Last year involved a whole lot of changes in the world of yours truly. New house, new work location, new boobs (I went in for a routine appendectomy and came out with a couple of size C’s – hellova mix up if you ask me – I gave them back after a few months) and so I figured I’d give the old blog a makeover.
I’m not sure it’ll hold up. I think soon ol’Mike Holmes will be on my site goin’ “look at this preposition dangling over here, and the layout? That’s just shoddy. Do It Right.” (Because you know as soon as the people at HGTV realize people aren’t interested in yet another show with another gay designer they’re going to start featuring shows like “Pimp My Blog” or “Twitterpating.”)
So, anyway another new thing in my life will be the transmission in my 2004 Hyundai Elantra aka “Red” (I’m very imaginative when it comes to naming things). The other day while driving the kids home from day care ol’Red started to jerk a bit. I thought nothing of it; after all, ask anyone I’m a bit of a jerk. After seven years its only fitting that Red should pick up some of my habits right? I mean, don’t they say that cars start to look like they’re owners after a while?
As we drove further down the road the jerking got heavier and it started to remind me of some of those bad Jagermeister trips from university and the mechanical bull at the university bar… wait a minute, I don’t think my university had a mechanical bull in its bar… whoa…
Now, not being a mechanic, and not even playing one on TV, I could still tell this wasn’t normal. So I did what any man who gets in trouble does – I called my wife. I told her what was happening. She called her Mom – her mom came and saved us. We drove off in a nicer ride, leaving Red on the side of the road. All of nature wept for its fate… or maybe that was just rain, who am I to say?
A call was made to the fine people at BCA who, upon learning we would furnish them cash for the service, towed Red to its home away from home – the Dealership there to await diagnoses. Like an expectant father I paced and I paced waiting for the call; but I’m out of shape, so after about 2 minutes I sat down and read a book. They weren’t going to call until the next day anyway.
Sure enough the call came next day. Red’s transmission had gone the way of an Egyptian mob’s patience – cost of repairs $3600 plus tax. For a car that’d only bring about $2,000 for trade in.. now I’ve never been a math major, and I’ve never played one on TV, hell I don’t even believe in math – but even I know there’s sumfin odd bout dose figgers.
Hyundai has a great warranty – 8 years or 120,000 km on the power train… it would have been a better warranty if the car hadn’t been at 122,000 km. Suck much? Oh yeah. Because I’m a good little warranty maintainer though there was some warranty coverage left – enough to bring, with discount from the nice manager at the dealership, the cost of repairs below the trade-in value.
So we’ll fix you, Red, and bring you home. And I’ll drive you. But I don’t know if I can trust you anymore. Here’s a pic of me in Red, in happier times.
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