“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Here's the deal with the car. I called yesterday, the day it was supposed to be done, and asked them to inspect it after they put it back together because the sticker is just a little out of date. In an odd quirk of coincidence, the sticker expired in the same month as the window mechanism broke, causing the widow to get stuck four inches shy of all the way open.

The window has defied all attempts at repair as the stripped gear in the mechanism is apparently THE RAREST AUTO PART EVER MADE. None of the junkyards have it, I never see it on e-bay, and the parts catalogs don't even have a listing for it.

Anyways, the garage informs me that my car won't pass inspection because of the broken window mechanism. The idea being that, in an accident, the mechanism must work in case you have to climb out of the window.

There are three problems with this line of reasoning:

#1: In the case of an accident that buckles that door to the point where it won't open, the window will almost certainly break. Broken windows are notoriously easy to escape from. That's why they don't use them in prison construction.

#2: The goddamn window is frozen in the OPEN FUCKING POSITION! If the window does somehow survive the crash it will be less of a problem than problem #3.

#3: Those of you who know me are already laughing at the idea of me fitting through that window, functional or not. It just ain't happening. You'll shove a camel through the eye of a needle before you'll get my big fat ass through that window.

So even when I get the car back I can't get it inspected which means I can't really drive it much here in town. Granted I have been driving it since the sticker expired in June or July (I don't recall which), but now that I know about it it's the perfect thing to finish off a tri-fecta pain in the ass.

I have found that there is an international Maverick owners club, and by an odd stroke of coincidence it's located in Ripley West Virginia. They MIGHT be able to help with the window problem, but I know damn well that given the relationship I have with fate (that bitch) that I'll get pulled over within sight of the place.

This is my life. This is what I have to deal with for some reason. The big problems in my life seem sort of trivial, what few big problems I have (believe me I'm not asking for more), and the little problems team up to form massive, impossible, goat-fucking tangles.

I swear to god I'm going to get "Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't" tattooed across my fucking forehead.

Come to think of it, I'd better go check the mirror and see if it isn't there already...

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