Today is the last day of my VW Jetta. We (The mechanic and I) have agreed it's time to take it off life support and donate it to charity. Let's review some of the great moments with the Jetta.
The First Day-A New Beginning
Excited to join the ranks of the two-car family, I drove to Pennsylvania with my mom, where the little blue Jetta was waiting patiently in the driveway. After getting a tour of it's features by my mom's husband, I hopped in and proceeded to follow my mom down the winding country road. About 1/4 mile down the road, the hood popped open, flew into the windshield and cracked it all the way across. Confined to viewing the road in the small space where the open hood attaches to the car, I slowed down and pulled over onto the shoulder. My mom was nowhere in sight. I decided to hyperventilate for a while until she realized I was not behind her.
What may have been 3 minutes later, (an eternity to me), I see my mom drive up on the shoulder across from me. She steps over to the car and remarks, "Oh. I see the hood popped open." I have no reply to this. I realize my hands hurt because they are still gripping the wheel, and I finally understand the saying "white-knuckled." I meant to get the car blessed with holy water, but I never got around to it. This leads me to my next Jetta experience.
The Roof-top Pary
Every year, the teachers at my job are invited to an Upper West Side rooftop party, overlooking the Hudson river. (Actually, that should be coming up soon...) It is hosted by the parents of one of the students in my class and involves shmoozing and drinking and eating catered food. I believe it is one of the highlights of the year. Any event which requires me to get dressed up and eat and drink is a good time, (the only exception is when one of my various parents gets remarried. Then I go heavy on the Jack and light on the good time.) We had a splendid evening. I wore a cute green and while silk print dress in a 50's style. It had a wrap top and a full skirt. We left the party at around 11 o'clock. As I was about to cross 2nd Avenue to get on the 59th Street bridge entrance, I heard a loud thumping sound. Passersby were shouting and pointing from the sidewalk, "You have a flat tire." Gee. Thanks. I didn't notice. Not one to be deterred by gender roles, attire or aptitude, I proceed to park on 2nd Avenue in a no standing zone, open the trunk and take out the spare tire and tire kit. Wait. Did I say spare tire kit? That's funny BECAUSE THERE WAS NONE!!!! We had the tire. It had air in it. No jack, no lugwrench. WTF????? WHO TAKES THE SPARE TIRE KIT OUT OF THE CAR!!!!! That's ok. I tried to console myself. We will find someone and borrow a jack and wrench. One of the girls from work has a Jetta and was coming home from the party around the same time. No problem. We borrowed her jack and somehow, I think with the help from some guys on the street, managed to get the car up. Now for the wrench. Oh. It doesn't fit. The Germans are soooooo special and need fucking special lugnuts for their fucking German engineered cars. Noooo. It can't be standard. They're German, why make things easy. (I will say now that I am German and I see that this making things difficult comes from that side) I call DH. I remember having a 4-way lug wrench in the back of the truck. He's tired and angry and it's probably about 12:30 and he just got off UPS. He comes to the city and guess what? No 4-way lug wrench. Oh. I think it was in my ex-boyfriend's truck. My bad. Five of the girls from work are hanging around with me in party dresses and DH refuses to get out of the truck and even say hello. I finally admit I have to call a tow truck. The girls leave and I'm left with my DH, who is currently not speaking to me. The tow truck comes and drags the Jetta down to 35th street and 10th Avenue, how fucking convenient. They change the tire in under 3 minutes and charge me $80 for the towing and $5 to change the tire. Ain't it funny how that stuff works?
Going to Work
One day I took the Jetta to work. The car was acting weird and braking weird the whole 9 miles it takes for me to get there. When I got off the exit, the car was not braking! I repeat, the car was not braking! DH has a habit of always putting on the emergency break, no matter where he parks. I do not do this, and his dashboard always has check engine, low oil, a venerable Christmas tree of warning lights at any given time, so I didn't know the emergency brake was on. I figured it out, but not without almost having a heart attack.