Monday, September 23, 2013
Kar vs. The Baby Blue Beast. Part 2.
Kay. So ever since my PTSD-inducing experience with Ben's truck back in March, I have categorically refused to drive it. Ben did fix the brake system, which cost us hundreds of dollars. (Which is special.) So it's a bit safer. But the speedometer doesn't work.
Anywho, I had book club on Saturday night and I was driving my friend, Megann there. Ben had taken our nice, dependable Durango to go grocery shopping. He left two hours before I was set to leave for my book club, but because he is an ent, he didn't finish in time. After many frantic calls to him about getting his butt home and me being late for book club and resigned sighs, I decided that I had to do the unthinkable - drive that stupid truck again.
I picked up Megann, and when she saw what I was picking her up in, she laughed heartily. When she got in, I made sure she put on her seatbelt and gave her many warnings about the adventure we were about to have. I also warned her that we'd have this weird, peculiar old-truck smell on our clothes for a couple of hours after we got out. My grandpa used to always have that smell. The smell of a 1960's beat-up truck.
Our friend, Hayley's, house is a few miles out of town. I had to make a few turns, which was scary for me, because the truck doesn't have power steering and I have weak muscles. Once we got onto the country road and the speed limit was faster, I tried to shift into fifth gear. It would just grind and refuse to go in, so I let it go and went 40 mph or so. Cars were passing me. I was telling them I was sorry. And that 40 mph is an estimate, since the speedometer doesn't work. I later found out that there IS no fifth gear. Apparently I was putting it into reverse. Yep, the reverse place is where the fifth gear place on most normal cars is. Fun.
Megann just laughed and laughed.
So we finally got there to Hayley's, and I decided not to pull into her driveway, because it's too hard to turn. So I pulled in front of her house. Phew. We made it. I put it in neutral (it won't go into first gear), applied the emergency break, and twisted the key (which is to the LEFT of the steering wheel instead of the RIGHT) to turn it off.
The key wouldn't come out.
The truck wouldn't turn off.
It just sat there, key in the "off" position, rumbling.
Megann started laughing again.
So I twisted it the other way. It was still on. The key still wouldn't come out. So I twisted it halfway. Ah-ha! The key easily came out.
But so did the entire mechanism that the key goes into. I was holding the entire mechanism in my hand.
I took the key out of the mechanism, and the mechanism literally fell apart in my hands. Springs. Little things that look like teeny bullets. Two tubes that fit into each other with these complicated springs and bullet thingeys.
And the car was STILL ON.
So I put the tubes back together and tried to get the mechanism back into the hole where it goes, and it wouldn't go in.
I told Megann to go ahead and go inside to Book Club. I called Ben (who had just brought the grocery bags into our house) and asked him to come switch cars with me. Then I proceeded to keep trying to insert this mechanism into the hole thingey.
Hayley's husband came outside to try to help. He couldn't figure it out either, but he most helpfully said, "Aw, man, this truck is seriously so AWESOME. Every guy should have a truck like this."
I looked at him incredulously. "So you're saying that, even though you can see what an obvious piece of crap this is, and you can see that I can't get the truck to TURN OFF, you still LIKE IT??"
"Oh yeah. Totally."
Boys are so weird. Boys and Ben's sister Jenny. Jenny likes the truck, too. "I just love the sound that engine makes!!"
So Ben finally pulled up, yelling out the window, "Woman, what did you do to my truck?"
I shot him the Look of Death. The one I used to reserve for students who told me to F Off when I taught 8th grade English.
I explained to him what happened and informed him that I was going in to my Book Club, to discuss a book that I haven't even cracked open yet. (I was wayyyy into Jane Austen's biography and couldn't put it down. Had to finish it first.) I asked him for the keys to the FUNCTIONING car, and then I marched indignantly, nose in the air, into Hayley's house.
Ben never got the key mechanism back into the hole. Since it was on, he just...drove it home. He later told me that he finally got it to turn off by inserting a SCREWDRIVER into the hole and twisting it. I asked him if he was able to turn it on again. Yep. With a screwdriver. My husband has to use a screwdriver to start and stop his stupid truck.
HATE that thing.
Here's what kills me - we've been trying to figure out how to rehab our new house and stay within budget. Ben has been absolutely adamant that we replace the laminate floors and carpet with this bamboo flooring stuff. I was like, "The laminate looks fine. Let's just replace the cat pee carpet with new carpet. And then we can use what we save on the flooring elsewhere in the house to fix stuff."
But nope, that wouldn't do. Ben hates the blond laminate floors and insists upon having this hoity-toity floor everywhere. So picky. So...almost snobby, right? I've told you - he is a floor snob.
And yet he has this piece of crap truck that he adores and thinks is the coolest thing ever.
I don't get it. I just don't get it.