I have a car. It is
my own car, not shiny or brand new, but it is all mine. I like my car. And because I like my car, I allow it to have
little issues and I try to make excuses for why it’s little issues exist (sort
of like “my child isn’t a brat, she’s just overtired”)
My driver side car door broke. The hinge things that attach it to the car no
longer wish to attach it to the car.
I
feel that this could be a problem moving forward in life.
It happened gradually.
I had warning, but being the way I am, I figured that it was just
something that would fix itself. For a
while I chalked it up to being too cold out and the door was stiff, so I had to
lift it up a bit to get it to align. I
went with that idea until it started to not be cold out anymore. I had to find a new excuse for why my door was
not closing without manual effort.
During this time, I managed to throw out my shoulder and my
back trying to lift up the door to close it while being in the driver’s
seat. I think that is the point where I
figured that I might need professional intervention. I thought about it for a while, not making
too many moves towards fixing it-- I
think I was still holding out hope that my good thoughts and the Automobile Fairy
would come down and sprinkle magic wd-40 and all would be as it should be.
 |
| BAD-EVIL-DOOR |
I was wrong. The
problem with being wrong is not the actual admittance of being wrong. No..
The problem with being wrong is the absolutely unacceptable and
inconvenient timing as to when you are proven to be wrong.
The day my car door stopped being a useful method of car
entry happened at last call on a Saturday night. As I
opened my door the hinge laughed manically at me and said, HA, I hold your door
up no more! And my door did this
wonderful dip to the ground thing, clinging to the one remaining hinge in
vain. My friend had already gotten into
her car (hamster mobile) and sped off into the moonlight, so she did not see
what had happened to me. I stood there
in the parking lot, searching around for a helpful person to help me. There was a group of “gently” sauced women
standing in a circle. Unfortunately,
either my little cries for help were drowned out by the haze of smoke around
their circle or they saw me and decided that manual labor was going to be a
sort of alcoholic buzz repellent, so they didn’t come and assist me.
Now, I drive a Saab. Saabs
are heavy, very heavy. Their doors are
also heavy. I am 5 ft and ½ inch. I am barely taller than my car and I am
lacking in extreme upper body strength.
Get the visual of me trying to lug this door back up to where it
belonged, then try to get it back on it’s broken hinge bracket and then get it
shut. Trust me, I had to make a few
tries to do this.. At this time I am panicking a bit as the parking lot is clearing
out rapidly (it was a small parking lot, so I am exaggerating a bit here)..
Smoking women have poured themselves into their cars with doors that work and
left me there. At one point I slipped on
the dirt of the parking lot and found myself sliding to the ground. Still clinging to the door, I am now worried
that it was going to pin me to the ground and land on me and I will be unable
to leave. Unsavory thoughts started to
enter my mind, alone and near a mini golf place, you never know what sort of
evil lurks at the 7th hole..
The Automobile Fairy finally answered my pleas and I managed
to get the damn door up and closed. Yay
me! I then had to crawl through my
passenger side into the driver’s seat. I
now know to keep both the passenger and driver’s seats pushed all the way back
so as to make this an easier task. Not
so that original night. I climbed in the
car, butt to the windshield, hunched over like Quasimodo. I tried to do a turn once I was fully in, but
the seat was too close and it wasn’t working the way it was supposed to..
Basically put it this way, if there was a twister game cloth in my car, my
right hand would have been on red, left on green, right leg on blue, left leg
on red.. I finally managed to get myself
in my seat, knees under the steering wheel instead of parallel to it and drive
the 1/8th a mile home (yes, this was all for 1/8th of a
mile)
This happened about 3 months ago. Yup, that is right.. I have been doing the
Dukes of Hazzard (yes, I know that isn’t technically their move, I am not going
through the window, but it makes me feel cooler to call it by a name that had
Bo Duke associated) move for 3 months now.
I have it down to a science, but it isn’t any less embarrassing when I
have to bring Gabe to school and we are late.
Nothing worse than climbing in and out of your car like a monkey next to
a perfectly normal mother who is showing off to me in her ability to exit her
vehicle normally. I’ve decided that if
anyone asks me about it (which thankfully no one actually has, thank god), I am
going to tell them that I am trying to found a new Yoga Movement-- Too busy to go to yoga practice? No problem, here are 10 useful poses to do in
your car! Say it with a smile and no one
notices the beads of perspiration on your forehead or the horror in your child’s
face. 
I brought it out to my SAAB MECHANIC. I give him all caps because he is a guru of
all things SAAB. Apparently this is a
weird thing to happen and in all his days as a SAAB MECHANIC, he’s never seen
this. Even more crazy, Saab only has 2
of these little hinge thingys in their warehouse…period…. My guru says that this will cost me at least
$300 in labor, from an early estimate, not counting parts or any other myriad
of issues that occur once the door is off. YIKES..
So, I continued to climb, what is a little pride at the end
of the day right?
BUT, then the Automobile Fairy visited me again. Stupidly, I forgot that I know people. People who know how to fix things and because
I am such a lovely person and kind to everyone around me (shush, don’t blow my
cover), have offered to take care of it for me.
Maybe even this weekend! Oh joy!!
And yah, once it is fixed I might still crawl through the
passenger seat once in a while to stay humble….
No, no I won’t..
