Crikey!  – Day 100

Crikey! 

Bet you guys are thinking I started this post out with that very English expletive because I hit the triple digits. Amiright?

And you would be forgiven in thinking thus, since I am pretty chuffed (that’s my Irish talking) to realize I’ve actually reached the 100 mark.

But alas, my Crikey! derives from the circumstances depicted in my photo, above.

That, my friends, is Good Girl. She of the 306,500+ mileage fame, who has been flirting with the RT of D. (Indeed, while relentlessly hammering me with the ‘check engine’ light, loud screechy beep and Red Triangle of Death on the day I’d written that post, she’d recently taken pity on me. I thought maybe she was calming down or perhaps just choosing to be gentle with me as long as I didn’t turn on the heat.)

An Oh-So-Short-Lived Reprieve

Let me set the scene: I stopped to pick up a 40 lb. bag of sunflower seeds for my very spoiled birds. We’re running low, and with the forecast calling for snow and ice again tomorrow, I wanted to make sure I have enough to fill all of our feeders. So I stopped at my local Agway store and the strapping young man who waited on me volunteered to haul the bag out to the car for me.

I say ‘haul it out’ for me, but let’s face it: if I had carried it out to the car, it would have been an act of hauling. For him, it was a toss. A nonchalant sling over his shoulder, as if it were a sack of feathers as opposed to food for the feathered. In fact, as I held the door for him I teased, “Oh sure. Look at you. Being all he-man for the little old lady. Showing off your brawn.”

We laughed.

I stepped up to the back of my car and went to pinch the handle that opens the trunk of my Prius and “Crrraaaaaacckkk!” I was suddenly holding in my hand the entire back assembly of my car. I’d literally just ripped the ass off my car.

The young Agway man stepped back, a look of astonishment on his face. (Did I also detect a hint of fear cross his brow like a passing storm cloud?) “Umm, well…” he stuttered as I struggled mightily – mightily! – to curb the expletives that were begging to be released from my mouth like hounds chasing a rabbit. “I think you have me beat.”

Oh. My. Freaking…

There I was, holding this big chunk of my car in my hand, with nowhere to place it because it was essentially dangling by a sole clump of electrical wires. It was like a piece of broken pottery; I could see where each of the myriad points of attachment had simply sheared off.

I tried putting it back on, fitting it together like the pieces of a puzzle. While it did all technically fit together, it didn’t look stable. And when I sort of leaned against it and tried to open the hatch? Nope. Wasn’t happening. Yes, I could fit it back together. But it didn’t matter – every single piece of plastic and metal that comprised that back assembly had snapped.

He placed the sack of seeds across my back seat, marveling that he’d never seen anything like that before. We decided that duct tape was in order.

So there you have it. I discovered as I drove away that the back door isn’t sure whether its closed or ajar, so it blinks the ‘door ajar’ light and the inner dome light flickers on and off as I drive off into the sunset.

I turned my dome light off so the battery doesn’t drain over night. I can no longer lock my car, because the system screeches, telling me one of the doors is ajar.

My car is giving me a message, and I think it’s a lot bigger message than just “You need a new car.”

And don’t you know it? DOLPHIN, telling me to BREATHE, was my ‘underneath’ card today. Again.

P.S. – My mesa asked to stay out again tonight to bask. Or cool her heels. Chill the hell out? I don’t know. Take a look at the weird photo I took last night after opening Sacred Space and placing her in the moonlight:

(T-1011)