POS

This is the car I inherited from my mother. Well....it's a long story. A dramatic tale of trepidation and intrigue...Ok not really. Here goes:


I used to drive one of these:


Oh La La I know. I had landed my first real job outside of college, and thus acquired my first car loan on my sweet little Honda Civic. Its fate, however was doomed from the beginning. Mostly due to my post-college-life crisis, I let too many people borrow it and most of those people wrecked it in some manner (myself included).

Wreck #1

The Culprit: My Gay Roommate

Date: Summer 2005

Time: 7:30 am

Location: In front of Durango High School

After being up all night on random pills and using my car for his newspaper delivery, my roommate apparently "fell asleep" at the wheel and was involved in a 3-car pile-up during morning traffic. The hood of my car was thus "repaired" by bailing twine and never fully recovered from it since.

Wreck #2

The Culprit: My Baby Daddy

Date: November, 2005
Time: 5:30 pm
Location: Pearl River, Louisiana

2 Months Pregnant, I was sitting in the passenger seat arguing with my sperm donor (fiance). He was turning to yell at me when the post-Katrina, bumper-to-bumper traffic came to a complete stop and he subsequently rear-ended the car in front of him, and we slammed to a stop. Boy was I pissed.

Wreck # 3

The Culprit: Me

Date: December, 2005

Time: 8:00 pm

Location: Mandeville, Louisiana

Now almost 5 months pregnant, I was driving home from my shift at Target. I was trying to enter the freeway, picking up speed, looking over my shoulder to merge, when I look back I see the woman in front of me is stopped at the end of the on-ramp WAITING. Now I was pissed about the first two wrecks, but this was the kicker. I've driven in some pretty Hellish places (LA, Boston, Miami, POST-KATRINA South) but I have NEVER seen someone STOP at the end of an On-Ramp, and just twiddle their happy fingers, waiting for someone to let them in.

OOOHHH needless to say, I was not very friendly with the swamp queen who emerged from the car. Lets just say I was "colorful" in my description of her southern ass.

Wreck # 4

Culprit: ELK

Date: April, 2006

Time: 10:45 pm

Location: Hesperus, Colorado

This was the kiss of death for the Honda. Now, 7 months pregnant, I was driving home from my shift as a driver at Pizza Hut, when I passed 3 cars coming from the other direction. There was that split second of high-beam blindness, and in that second, I ran head on into one of these:

For those of you who have never seen an Elk, (let alone had a mouthful of hair and blood) they are NOT cute little Bambi Mamas. They are as big as a horse and my Honda was left in a crumpled heap. I had squeezed my pregnant belly through the crushed door somehow and waited for the ambulance to come. But I never saw my car again after that night. Those who DID see it, wondered how I got out of it alive. I wish I had a picture to post, but my mom said that I probably wouldn't have been able to look at it without puking. There was an elk ear in the back of my seat, she said.

So after all this drama happened, my baby daddy and I carpooled in his truck until after LB was born, and my mom decided to upgrade to a hippy-hybrid. She never actually got the car, cause she's an impatient old biddy who doesn't like to wait for manufacturers to ship the trendy cars out to the middle of nowhere.

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The insurance money from my Elk Incident paid for the rest of my loan and then some, so I basically handed the check over to my mom and she handed over the keys to the car I took (and failed 3 times) my driver's test on. God I hate that car.

Yes, I drive a station wagon. I have a car seat in the back, and a stroller in the trunk (or whatever you call the inside of a hatchback). Yes, its an ugly drunken champagne color. And soon the clutch will be nothing more than a useless stick of metal. But I can't shake my head at it completely. I have not gotten in a You-Know-What since I acquired it, and have not been pulled over by a You-Know-Who either ( I AM NOT JINXING MYSELF DAMMIT).

So I guess the moral to the story is: some cars are simply cursed, or maybe you should never let a pregnant woman (like me) drive.

What is your car story?