Sunday, August 5, 2012

A Story About a Car

I really wish I had a picture to go along with this story, but I don't. However, I still felt it was one that my kids would like to hear about one day even though they were involved. Also a story I would love to read to Nate if he ever has guts to say to me "you never do anything for me"...     (he's too smart to do that.)

On Thursday, July 19th, Nate and I were invited by my brother Damon to go see Batman the Dark Knight Rises.  His company had rented out the theater at Thanksgiving Point and concessions were included. It was a special 7pm showing before the long awaited midnight showing for some. We felt pretty privileged and were really excited to have a night out with Damon and Summer. 

I'm a planner. I wake up in the morning with a pretty solid plan to my day. Sometimes things get changed around and that's ok, but I get stressed pretty easy if my plans get shaken up. Especially on a night when i'm meeting Nate for a date and I have to get the kids to my in-laws to be babysat by a certain time.

Nate works in Draper. It's far from our house so the plan was to meet him at the Theater and I would ride with Damon and Summer. I got all dolled up that afternoon in preparation for my date that evening when I get a phone call from Nate.  Basically, because it might rain that evening, he needed me to go pick up his car that had been at the shop for a while getting some transmission work done.  

People, this is a 64 Impala Convertible. Aside from that, I have children. How am I suppose to pick up this car?  So, after freaking out that I 'don't have time for this!', we figure the plan would be to have the car towed to our house. So, I hurry out the door with the girls who are so mad that they couldn't watch the show I had promised them after doing their chores.  We get to the shop. After waiting a while, finally this guy comes to the front desk.  I tell him a tow truck is on their way and I need to pay for the impala.  I had part cash, part card.  He doesn't know how to run a card because his dad (this guy is easily in his thirty's) usually handles that and he's not there.  So, I call Nate. 

"I'm here, I can't pay with a card, what do you want me to do?"
Response:  "you'll have to go get the checkbook."

GREAT!!! The checkbook is at HOME!!!

I race home to try and get back to the shop before the tow truck gets there.  It's 90 degrees outside and humid from the storm rolling in. I'm annoyed.

I get back just as the tow truck pulls up. I pay for the car and the tow truck guy gets out and I just have a really creepy feeling about this guy. No joke. He says he'll meet me at my house.  By this time, I'm worried I'm going to be SO late (and I HATE being late) for my date that evening.  Meanwhile, my makeup is basically melting off my face and whatever perfume I was wearing got replaced with that lovely humid/sweat smell.

I get back to my house, my kids are STARVING and i'm waiting outside for this tow truck to come so we can be on our way.  Oh wait, he's going to drop it off in the street, then what???

I call Nate.

"um, you'll have to pull it in the garage"

It's a 64 Impala Convertible!!!!!! REALLY?  This aught to be a great show for the neighbors, I thought. Speaking of neighbors, I called my friend Lezlee to come hang out while this tow truck guy came. I didn't really want to be home alone when he arrived.  She obliged and came right over. Tow truck guy shows up.

As he's telling me how much care he took of my husbands baby, I felt like running it into a wall.  This car is a classic, yes. But it needs a LOT of work and LOOKS like a piece of junk. ONLY car guys would look at this thing and say "WOW".  Again, I look at it and say "REALLY? Why is this junk of metal in my garage and why am I parked on the street??"

Such is life with a car guy for a husband.  

So, he takes the car off the truck and I get in to pull it up the hill of a driveway that we have. First of all, my legs are too short. They don't reach the....

Pedal? There's no pedal??????????  It's just a stick, with no foot pad. Great. I inch my way to the edge of the seat to reach it. 

Mind you... I'm in nice clothes and this car is FILTHY. SO FILTHY. I'm getting all kinds of grease and dirt all over my outfit. Not to mention the smell of grease embedded in my clothing.  Then, I turn the key, pump the gas real good and...... nothing. The pedal.. I mean stick is sticking and it won't turn over.

This car is in the middle of the street and I have Mr. Greaser watching while my friend Lezlee is busting a gut laughing at me.  Luckily, Mr. Greaser knows a thing or two about cars and is able to get the gas stick to stop sticking so I could turn the car on. It stalls a few times until I realize that I have to keep my foot on the gas WHILE putting the car into drive or it will die. I do this, the car JUMPS into drive and off I go up the driveway.....  

It slows WAY down while going up the driveway and I've got that stick pushed ALL the way to the ground. Mr. Greaser and Lezlee put their lives in danger by going behind me to help push the giant piece of metal into the garage and it stalls. It starts to roll down the driveway even with my foot on the break and they both dive out of the way. (it seriously was something you'd see in movies)  

While at an incline, I start the car, throw it into drive and it JUMPS itself into the garage and I am steering it and breaking at the same time to try and not run the thing through my house.  I'm sweating like crazy.  I thank Lezlee and Mr. Greaser for helping me out and shut the garage door once and for all. 

At this point, i'm running super late. So, I did what any AWESOME mom would do and I threw two hot dogs in my girls hands and threw them in the car off to grandma and grandpa's house, cursing the whole way... in my head of course.  I'm sure if there is a crowd out there somewhere that watches the world, they got a pretty good show that day.

We meet Nate at the theater and he looks so nice in his dress shirt and slacks for work.. then there is me. Make-up melted, hair frazzled from the humidity and clothes smelling like a grease shop. I am one HOT mamma.

The first thing I said to him when I saw him in all his hot-ness...  "You Owe Me... Big Time."  

I took a deep breath, grabbed my bottled water, popcorn and kit-kat, all provided for free and enjoyed a really great movie.

Then reminded him again on the way home that he owed me. :-)

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