I know, my title is so original. But it’s true, this post is all about the death of my dear Emily’s car.
Yesterday Emily and I decided to go have ourselves a little dinner and catch up on life. It ha been a week or two since we had seen each other and we are both “let me tell you every last detail of my story” people.
Not that you could guess that by reading my blog or anything.
So we are driving to meet each other, and I pull up, and I’m sitting at Norman Panera, because it is our default eating place, and I get a call from Emily.
“My car died. Like dead won’t move completely not working.” “where?” “where I-35 south merges to main street east…”
Oh my goodness. BAD location. Cars driving crazy, getting off one busy highway and on to a busy street. Never fear, Shae to the rescue! I pulled up, and found this:
So after an hour of calling my dad, freaking out and calling Good Sam, I was glad we had that membership. They sent a tow truck and we were on our way to a repair shop. By the way, Good Sam customer service was a little rude, and they didn’t seem to understand why we weren’t sitting in the vehicle located where people merge onto the road. Speeding cars, still vehicle, sounds like a good idea to me too.
When we got to the repair shop, the man was super helpful.
“Turn it on…blah blah blah…I think it’s your transmission. We don’t repair those.”
You’re a car repair shop. What exactly do you do then???
We got all of Emily’s stuff out of her car, including her sewing machine. Strangest car find ever, for anyone except for Emily. Then she kicks her car multiple times for being a butthead.
I took Emily to get food, because Panera is the best not homemade comfort food. She broke the news of her dead car to her mom.
Emily’s car is still dead. There is no update on the situation. Ha.