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Cars.

Well shit.

My car, which I rarely ever drive and have seriously considered getting rid of, has developed the worst possible malfunction a car in the Pacific Northwest can have: the windshield wiper motor has died completely.



It was quite a trick, getting a long enough break in the rain to rescue it from where I'd had to abandon it on Christmas day, and then again to get it to the garage. When the mechanic--a trustworthy guy who has serviced my car since I bought it--called me yesterday and said that it would cost me A THOUSAND BUCKS to FIX THE FUCKING MOTOR THAT DRIVES THE FUCKING WIPER I said, "Screw this. I'm gettin' rid of the damn thing. For real this time."

Because I almost don't need a car. My sister who lives across the street also almost doesn't need a car, and between us we've got three of damn things. Maybe we could just share one.

I told the mechanic that I simply don't have a thousand dollars. No, there really is no husband, no credit card, no second income or secret source of money lending to consult. I'll just have to wait till I get a tax refund. "I'll come get it in the next break in the weather," I told him.

He got creative, called some wrecking yards, and found me a used wiper motor and drive assembly (or whatever) which will run me $600 installed.

Gah! I don't have $600 either, but my one credit card might. And it will be easier to sell a functioning car than one with the most Portland-inappropriate malady imaginable.

Cars. Can't live with 'em...and I really think I can go back to living without one.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comment count unavailable comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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