picture taken during cross country move #2
It's a 1999 Volkswagon Jetta. At one time, both mirrors were duct taped on.
Now, it's just one.
And the front bumper. (Volkswagon, if you're listening, would it really hurt for you to make these just a tad sturdier?)
Needless to say, of all the cars parked on my block, my car stands out as some of an, ahem, eye sore. It also, in addition to it's structural problems, it
There was a demon in the cupholders. For three years! when you pressed the button for the cupholders to pop out as they're supposed to, the demon would refuse to release them. Then one day, my mother somehow managed to exorcise it.
The worst demon, though, is the demon who is possessing the alarm system. When you lock the car, the alarm engages. But when you unlock the car (manually....I uh dropped the key in a pool one summer and the buttons haven't worked right since), it physically unlocks but it doesn't disengage the alarm. You can imagine what happens. When the car starts, the alarm goes off and Just. Doesn't. Stop.
After several calls to mechanics, the best solution I could come up with was to just not lock the car. After all, there's not much important in there - nothing worth stealing unless you want the Tums or Excedrin or that pesky Epi Pen in the glove box. And who would actually steal the car.
Do you see where this story is going?
I took a writing class in my last year in college - a class I had to take to graduate. I can't remember the exact name of the course, but it was essentially autobiographical writing.
This was a class I actually excelled at, and I managed to entertain my classmates weekly with episodic essays about my family (yeah, my Dad and a trip to Disney World might have starred in one of those) and the crazy little things that seemed to only happen to me. Moments that gave people a You can't make that shit up type of look. We joked that the title of my memoir would be ONLY IN MY LIFE.*
*Of course, I am fully able to admit, now that I'm in publishing, I am one of those people who should never write a memoir, since it doesn't have three acts.
Of course, this made me the
1. The car was unlocked. Certainly, if someone wanted to rifle through the glove box, they could have just opened the door.
2. A ten year old car held together by duct tape? Really? Someone thought there'd be something worth stealing in that car? I fail to see the logic there.
I've decided when the window is fixed I may affix a note to any would-be window smashers just to alert them that if they are suffering from heartburn or a migraine, the car is in fact unlocked. Or wait...maybe that's not my best idea.
*And yes, I apologize to all those people out there who believe automobiles are sacred. I am actually very aware that all of the demons inhabiting my vehicle have taken up residence due to neglect. Poor car.