Soap Opera Life

Well! as in well (exclamation), rather than well (a hole in the ground which hopefully finds water).

I have lived another season long soap opera in the last 36 hours. The previous post of this a.m. gives the first 24 hours. There's more!

This morning (is that really just 12 hours ago), after having a couple loud and ugly conversations with myself last night, I headed over to La Mesa when the car was delivered. Told my guy, Dave, that I had changed my mind. I wasn't going to pull the REMCO from the PT Cruiser (mostly because an alternate method simply isn't available for this model car), I was going to sell it. I had reached the point that I couldn't trust the REMCO even if they fixed it, which I'm sure was possible because the system has been around for decades. And if I couldn't trust it, there was no reason to keep it. Unfortunately I feel the same about the PT Cruiser. It's a cute little car, and it's been fun to drive because almost every time I stop someplace, someone comes over to talk about the cute car. But it has given me more problems than the last Cadillac did, in 12,000 miles...new tires all around, new engine (because the crank shaft broke!!), tranny just isn't right since the first REMCO experience although the computer says there's nothing wrong. I don't trust the cute Cruiser anymore either.

SO! After getting the Cruiser checked out to make sure the transmission hadn't fried this time, I gave it a bath and traded it in on a 2006 Mustang convertible. V6. Red with a tan top. Less money and more bells and whistles than the Cruiser. "employee's rate" I'm not going to talk about how much various cars have cost me in the last few years. That's just wasted emotion.

But by now I was running out of time. The La Mesa lot closes at 5 p.m. If I didn't get there before the bewitching hour, I wouldn't be able to get to my coach, or the doggies, to have a place to sleep for the night. So the guys gave me the Mustang to drive home, trusting that I'll return at 8 a.m. to sign the final documents. and pay them. I made it just in time to get the coach out of the lot. And Dave even offered to follow me across the street in the Mustang to the RV park if I would drive him back to La Mesa to get his own car. Easy. He said 'go ahead - I'm just going to clock out and I'll see you there'. OK. I took off, to the doggies delight, having been caged up for hours without me around.

The phone started ringing, but I don't answer it while I'm driving the coach. And it rang again and again and again. Randy, sweet Randy, saw me coming and ran into the registration office and back out again, waving for me to follow him to my assigned spot. Bless his heart. Told me to just check in tomorrow.

No Mustang. Checked the phone. Dave gave me the great news that the yard guy at the Ford place had neglected to deactivate the security system, so that once the car was turned off, it would not start.

About 27 phone calls later, after Dave gave up and went home way past his normal time (on a Friday night yet), after locking the car up for the night, a security guy from Ford arrived at La Mesa just as they were locking the employees gate, and begged them to let him get my car. After offering them $20, they let him in. I didn't ask if they took it. He called me to ask if he could deliver the car to me across the street (about a half mile walk in 115 degrees), and if I would give him a ride back to his own car. Of course.

So I have my shiny new Mustang here with me as we speak. Actually it needs a bath, which it will get tomorrow while final paper signing goes on, together with a full tank of gas. Plus at least one more tank of gas which I believe I talked them into for all the hassle.

And I'm drinking Jack and eating cookies. So much for dinner. It was still 100 degrees here when I started this long story at 8:40 p.m. The doggies have crashed after a very stressful day, and I'm going to too.

Ain't life a kick.