Post Mortem of a Day

Before I go on, I admit I stole the title for this entry from one of my students’ Walt and Emily stories. She told me her mother gave her the idea for it. Whatever the case, it is not my title, but it is a very good title, and it is deadly accurate, too.

This morning, I drove to Henry County to meet my ex-husband so Sarah could visit her daddy this weekend. I’d say I was about a mile or a half mile from the I-75 exit which is home to the Chick-Fil-A where we usually meet. The check engine light on the car started blinking. That’s odd, I thought. Then the car started lurching. Okay, stay calm. Why does this shit always happen when I am driving and have at least one kid with me? Thank goodness I didn’t bring Maggie along, or I don’t think I’d be in one piece right now.

I managed to make it to the exit and pull into the Chick-Fil-A. The car died right there in the parking lot. I couldn’t get it to start again. My ex helped me get it into a parking spot. I called a tow truck. Then I tried to call Steve, but my cell phone died. Great. That was the number I gave the towing service. I called them back using my ex’s phone so I could let them know what happened to my phone.

We all went inside the Chick-Fil-A and waited for the tow truck. It arrived about an hour later. The tow truck driver was a Bubba if I’ve ever seen one. Large round belly. Worn out overalls. Thick country accent. He talked my ear off the whole way to the repair shop. He wandered dangerously into other lanes, earning at least one honk from another motorist before he finally hit someone. We waited what seemed like forever for the whole accident report deal. At least no one was hurt. He chatted with me about his court date and all that mess — didn’t want to hear it — and we managed to make it in one piece to the repair shop.

The mechanics couldn’t look at it for a few hours (can they ever?), so Dylan and I — I forgot to make it clear Dylan was still with me — hopped on the bus and went home. Not too long ago, the mechanic called and told us we need a new engine to the tune of $2000-3000, which is probably more than the car is worth.

So I have to try to convince someone to sell me a car this glorious holiday weekend. Bleh. I hate being poor, and I hate having bad credit.