Sometimes, I really feel like the craziest stuff happens to me. Like earlier this month when Sister Swimmer's Boyfriend (BF YOLO is
totally his nickname - you know,
the motto) hit my car while trying to park in front of it. Freak accident, for sure. And then, in an odd turn of events, I drove a cop car through my work parking structure.
How did this come to happen? Take a little looksie into my life.
Saturday, April 7
3:20pm
BF YOLO's back bumper of his pickup truck is not a fan of my sassy Jeep Liberty and rips her driver's side fender right off. BF YOLO looks like he might possibly cry out of remorse, so I save my usual overacting for another time. We call his insurance, and everthing is hunky dory.
Saturday, April 8
Easter
I made these awesome cupackes.
Unrelated, but seriously, go check them out.
Monday, April 9
12:20pm
Sister Swimmer and Hat Dad do me a solid and take my car in for an estimate. A whopping $800+ price tag for a little old fender, of course covered by insurance.
5:30pm
Handsome Husband and I get into a debate on whether or not a fender is necessary. I win, as per usual.
Wednesday, April 11
8:15am
Here's what is starts to get juicy.
I drop my car off at the body shop, and the rental car is delivered to me there. After a suprise $300 deposit (that I managed to get lowered to $50 due to subsequent arguing - I'm telling you I should be the one heading the law school), I park my booty in my new home for a few days, a fancy little Chrysler 200:
I feel pretty cool for about 4 miles, when...
8:40am
As I pull of the freeway at my exit for work, I start hearing a really loud noise that sounds like it is coming from the bottom of the car. Being the vehicle expert I am, I assume for about a light that this car is just very loud and I had not yet noticed in the past 4 miles of driving it. But then, as I roll down my window to flash my badge (I'm so important) to get into my parking structure, the noise sounds not normal, and I stop the car. A quick lap around the car, and nothing looks off. Tires are full of air, there's nothing falling off the vehicle. Until I notice a piece of black plastic peaking out from under the front bumper. I lean down and check it out where I discover the problem, a huge piece of plastic is coming off the bottom of the car, and had been scraping along the pavement as I drove.
"Are you shitting me??"
'Scuse my French, but I'm just keepin' it real.
8:45am
After a frantic call to HH, I call the rental car company. They tell me to go ahead into work and they will have somone deliver me a car as soon as possible.
9:00am
After heading into work, I get a call from the rental car company again. Here is where my big mistake lies. It goes down like this:
Rental Car Dude: Hello Casey, we are trying to get a car out to you ASAP. All we've got on the lot right now are Ford Crown Victorias...is that going to be alright?
Me: Yeah, why wouldn't that be alright? I don't care as long as the bottom is not falling off of it!
Now, do you know what a Ford Crown Victoria is?
Let me enlighten you.
Yup.
Imagine this bad boy sans blue stripe and sirens and you've got what was delivered to me.
10:00am
My cop car arrives. I am in a state of shock I think and agree to take this vehicle. That is, until I drive into the parking structure and feel as though I am driving a limo. This bitch is huge! Way too much anxiety for a stress case like me.
1:45pm
I make a call to the rental car company (who, by now, must think I am certifiable; but you know what, you're renting our Ford Crown Victorias - who is the crazy one here?), and request, ever so kindly (read: threatening to call corporate) that I get another car, anything but a cop car to drive while my car is getting fixed. The manage obliges, thank goodness.
3:45pm
My whip for the week arrives. It is not a cop car, and all is well with the world again.
Moral of the story?
Never never say yes to a Ford Crown Victoria.