Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Old Faithful.

I love my little car, "Old Faithful." I got her when I turned 16, and she's the only car I've ever owned. 

She's been good to me: taken me back and forth on I-45 between Waco and Livingston; Dallas to Livingston; work to home; and has driven me through torrential downpours, snow and ice. Honda's never die. {Knock on wood.} Hence the name, "Old Faithful." 

But today? Oh, Old Faithful. I said a very bad word to you. 


It really wasn't the car's fault. My battery was old {hello, sophomore year of college} and today it just gave out on me. In my parking garage at work. With my husband gone. 

Awesome! 

I called Brandon (who is at his National Sales Meeting)...he couldn't answer. I may or may not have called ten twenty times. But then? I called my Dad. Because when things go wrong with stuff like this, I have to call my Dad! After a bit of calming down by Dad, I went back in my office and sent out an office-wide e-mail asking for jumper cables. And perhaps a welcome hand with jumping Old Faithful. 

After a few hours, an annoying Progressive roadside assistance person later and almost crying because I just felt stranded and so annoyed that this happened on the one day that Brandon was gone...a guy in my office responded and said he'd help me. 

{By the way, I am pretty dramatic. If you couldn't tell.}

And help me he did! 

Not only did he jump my car, he had to back it up in Neutral (in his khakis and button down, poor thing!) and then had to drive his car backwards around the parking garage to get to my poor car. 

And so, after a lot of dinero later, I have a new battery. 

I made the sweet guy some chocolate chip cookies as a thank you. I only ate two. :) 

Old Faithful, please continue to be good to me. And if you want to do anything else bad, please make sure that I am around my husband or my father next time. 

PS: Thanks, Dad, for the help today! And thanks, Brandon, for sneaking out of your meetings and calling Progressive!!!

1 comment:

  1. Murphy's Law: the crap hits the fan whenever the hubs' are gone.

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