Wednesday, April 22, 2009

My car is cursed

I've had more flat tires than I care to remember. I don't know what it is, but somehow I seem to find every nail out there on the road. In the last year, I think I've had 5 or 6, if not more.

On the drive from Virginia to Arizona after our Honeymoon, we got two, yes TWO, flat tires. On the same day. In Arkansas. The first time we pulled over on the side of the highway, waited for AAA, and then stopped at a Wal-Mart to get a new tire. Arkansas = WalMart. Did we really have another option? :)

The second one was a few hours later. We stopped at a rest stop (still in Arkansas) and I could hear the air blowing out of the tire. Sigh... not again. Ug. A nice trucker helped us put on the donut and we headed back out on the highway hoping to make it to the closest town to get it fixed or replaced.

(Note: This was the second time that day that we had to dig the donut out of the trunk. Remember - this was when we were driving my car to Arizona after the wedding. Think about it: a trunk FULL of wedding presents and my stuff. FULL. )

By now it was late in the evening on a Saturday and we weren't too hopeful that we'd get it replaced that day. We came to the last town before crossing the border into Oklahoma and happened upon JimBob and Jeffro, overalls included. Two hillbillys in every sense of the word were our redemption. With 10 minutes to spare before their tire shop closed for the evening we were able, for only TEN dollars, to get the tire fixed and ready to roll. Amen for hillbillys and hillbilly Arkansas towns! Thank you Cooley's Tires for being open until 8pm on a Saturday night!

Fast forward to March. In one month I: 1) Ran over a nail on the way to work and got another flat tire and had to have the tire replaced, 2) Had a close encounter with a rock on the highway and had to have my windshield repaired, and 3) Was involved in a hit and run accident that caused $1100 in damages to my car.

No wonder car insurance is so dang expensive in Arizona.

Long story short: I was driving south in the far right lane approaching an intersection. The car just ahead of me to my left decided it needed to turn RIGHT on to Main Street from the middle lane, right where I was. I slammed on my brakes and still hit him. He fishtailed it and took off down Main St. The collision made me stop. Not him. By the time I turned right onto Main St. the car was out of sight down the road. It was dark and I never saw his license plate. Ug, ug, ug. It still makes my blood boil. Thanks to the lovely Mesa Police Department who said I'm pretty much SOL. Apparently this happens all the time here. Why, oh, why, me?

1 comment:

HappYness said...

Shellie! I didn't know you had a blog. Sounds like an "adventure!" Hope you are well, and happy-appy-appy! Love, Liza