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Fire, Fire, Water, Water

March 22nd, 2006

I just got this e-mail from Wacky Mommy A and she agreed to let me share it. She needs to vent, pobrecita. I’d heard about Amalah’s Heartbreaking Friday of Staggering Suck, as she so sweetly put it. And I thought, “Doesn’t get much worse than that,” followed by a rapid prayer, “Please-God-let-me-never-have-that-kind-of-day. Please? Thank you.”

Then I hear from A, who reads Amalah’s blog, too (who doesn’t? The girl has a larger fan base than Reese Witherspoon), and had uttered a similar prayer. So you know what’s next. Yeah, A’s day completely bit. “…Unless the car is on fire” isn’t what you ever want to hear your mechanic saying. And she created a new phrase: “move-a-fucking-long now.” I like it.

It’s making my little inconveniences with the contractors, the weather, the kids freaking out and using the Swiffer duster as a weapon on each other, all of that is looking pretty manageable.

So A — Don’t jump, lady! Just enjoy your first week at your brand new job.


It’s the middle of the night and I’m having a hard time sleeping. My brain is full of new info, which makes me restless.

Quess what happened to me yesterday morning? Well, I got to work at 6:55, right on time to start the day. When I turned my car off, it just kept running! Even after I tried to turn it off and had removed the keys from the ignition and got out of the car which was sounding funny and beginning to smoke. WTF!!!

So, I called my husband in a panic (which turned out to be a waste of precious time). Then I called my mechanic who miraculously answered the phone. He told me to unhook the battery cable, UNLESS THE CAR IS ON FIRE!!! As I tried to pop the hood the groundskeeper saw that I was in trouble and called security. Once the hood was up I saw the flaming inferno in my car engine.

In the meantime (like 3 minutes) the security guard waddled her fat ass over to see what the problem was. Lo and behold the woman had a fire extinguisher! BUT! The head of security had this smart idea to put a cable tie over the pin, making it impossible to get off in an emergency; because apparantly random teenagers steal fire extinguishers for pranks, and we can’t have that! Fat ass is trying to get the cable off without any luck. So the groundskeeper uses his pruners to cut the damned cable tie thingy off. By this time the fire had gone out on its own. With unneeded extiguisher in hand, Fat Ass gave the engine a couple of cursory sprays, then turned around and told me that the Fire Department should be there anytime. It’s protocol to call them, in case your car explodes! (good thing we had the fire extinguisher). Fortunately she cancelled the call before I could suffer from more embarrassment. Fucking total strangers want to know all about my car’s history. Why, I ask? Are they planning on fixing it for me? Move along people, move-a-fucking-long now!

At 7:15 I entered work stinking like burning car and gagging. So now I get to tell them that I’m late because my car was on fire out in the parking lot. Yes, I’m leaving a great first impression on my new co-workers! But they did believe me because 1. I reeked of buring toxic car fumes, and 2. because I had to explain to my husband that when the car is on fire there are these things called flames, and yes it was really a fire, really. Do-you-not-understand-what-I-am-telling-you (you dumb ass). After overhearing that heart-warming, lovey-dovey conversation, they were convinced that my outlandish excuse was legit.

I guess the good thing is that I can easily car-pool with my husband and my insurance will probably cover firey, smoking cars that may explode and kill you.




  1. Roxie says

    Thanks for the support! And yes, the insurance does cover the firey death trap on wheels. Whew!!

    March 22nd, 2006 | #

  2. Himself says

    Oh, sweet Jeebus, a similar thing happened to my old ’63 Step Van back in ’89. Driving along when suddenly acrid, white smoke began to pour from the spaghetti tangle of wires under the dash.

    I pulled over and turned off the ignition, and the damn thing started itself up again! I turned it off, it started again! And again! By then, I was starting to panic (and also asphyxiate).

    So I pulled the hand break, put it in gear, and popped the clutch (sacrificing the starter). The battery access panel was in the cab, so I popped it open and yanked the cables off. Then I grabbed my tiny little fire extinguisher (memo to the frugal: don’t skimp and buy puny little fire extinguishers!) which barely had enough stuff in it to put out this smoldering wiring fire.

    Not my preferred method of getting the adrenal glands pumping.

    March 22nd, 2006 | #

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