Car Drama

We've been having a little bit of car drama around the Mac house this week. First, Scott's car wouldn't start when we got back from vacation. Thankfully, it's a manual transmission, so he could get it started on the giant hill by our house. Drive it to our mechanic (whom we love but he lives in the boonies north of Omaha) and when Scott shuts it off and tries to start it again so Mr. Anderson can hear what it sounds like, it starts right up! Scott left it overnight, just in case, but it started about 10 times the next morning.

As I'm turning into the long gravel driveway to drop-off Scott's car, my car makes this screeching noise. It proceeds to do that all the way home, and, hence, all the way back the next morning when we went to pick-up Scott's car. We sounded like one of those people who doesn't take care of their cars...heaven forbid, gasp, because that's a terrible crime to commit in Scott's world. Thank God, turns out it was just a gravel rock stuck between two somethings and nothing major.

The final piece of car drama was this morning. Since my car was still at the mechanic, I had to drive Scott's car to drop him off at work. I'm always a bit nervous driving Scott's car because I'm parnoid that I'm a) going to grind the gears, choke it off, or something not good for the car or b) even worse, I'm terrified of rolling back into someone at a hilly intersection. I avoid the big hill by our house because I always get stuck at the stoplight right before the top.

All went well, so when I decided to go to the gym, I thought, "I'll take Scott's car." Sometimes I'd run down or ride bike (since it's under two miles) but ominous dark clouds hung in the sky this morning, and I was not in the mood to get soaking wet, so I drove down. Again, everything went smoothly, so by this point I'm thinking, "Hey, look at me, driving Scott's car with no problems...woohoo!"

Well, when I attempted to start the car after my workout, it wouldn't start! It would almost start, but not quite. Called Scott. Waited several minutes and tried again. No love. Go back inside the gym to ask a friend that I bumped into there if she could give me a ride out to the mechanic when she was done working out (so we can have at least one car that works). She agrees, but I try the car one more time, just in case. Nothing.

By this time the sky had cleared, so I decided to walk home to wait for my friend. Picture this: me walking along Cass and then 72nd street (both of which are busy) in my gym clothes carrying my cute red purse. Yes, I was the picture of style and grace. It's a good thing there weren't any "What Not to Wear" cameras hiding in the bushes.

The kicker in this whole story? After I retrieve my car (which involved spending at least 20 minutes talking to Mr. Anderson, who always has a story...or two or three..to share) and pick Scott up at work, we swing by the gym and....yes, you can see where this is going...the car starts for him the very first time! What the?!?! The rational side of me knows there is no way for the car to know that I was driving it, but this isn't the first time. It's like Kit from "Knight Rider" Scott tells me, with a smile on his face. I don't find it quite as entertaining. Just you wait, little black 1993 Honda Civic...you'll get yours.