The van hates me. It mocks me from its perch high above me on the tow truck.
It broke down again. White smoke billowed from underneath. Does that elect me as the new Pope? I’ll take the gig if I can get it but I think you have to be Catholic. Or at least Christian. I’ll take the name Pope John Paul George Ringo. And no one will laugh because religious humor just isn’t funny.
This time it was a blown radiator hose. I didn’t know that when I had it towed 40 miles from Hilliard into Jacksonville. Another $270 we don’t have. When the van started sputtering, smoking and lost power, I thought it was related to the timing belt trouble. I assumed that something was loose or broken from the previous surgery. A safe assumption with the timing belt being replaced less than 100 miles ago. So I had it towed in to Rocky because if it was something they did, they’d cover the charges. WRONG!! It was a mere coincidence and something I could have had fixed up here in Hilliard for $20! You know what? It doesn’t matter that the van hates me. I’m starting to hate that van.
Last night, I made nice with the van and talked real pretty to her. I also smudged her inside and out and paid close attention under the hood and under the chassis. I figure if routine maintenance isn’t enough for her, maybe it’s time to look to outside sources for a safe driving vehicle. 1 accident and 2 breakdowns in 2 months? Something is wrong. If this doesn’t work, I’m calling Father Merrin and we’re doing a full on exorcism! I think I can pull that off, me being the new Pope and all…
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